THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AUTONYM    LIBRARY 


THE  AUTONYM  LIBRARY. 


Small  works  by  representative  writers, 
whose  contributions  will  bear  their  signa- 
tures. 

32mo,  limp  cloth,  each  50  cents. 

The  Autonym  Library  is  published  in 
co-operation  with  Mr.  T.  Fisher  Unwin,  of 
London. 

I.  THE  UPPER  BERTH,  by  F.  Marion  Craw- 

ford. 

II.  BY  REEK  AND  PALM,  by  Louis  Becke. 

With  Introduction  by  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke. 

This  will  be  followed  by  volumes  by  S.  R. 
Crockett,  and  others. 


THE  UPPER  BERTH 


BY 

F.  MARION    CRAWFORD 


G.  P.   PUTNAM'S   SONS 

NEW   YORK  LONDON 

West  Twenty-third  St.  24  Bedford  St.,  Strand 

TZbe  ftnicfeerbocfeer  press 
1894 


COPYRIGHT,  1894 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


PUBLISHERS'    NOTE. 


The  two  stories  by  Mr.  Crawford,  presented  in  this 
volume,  have  been  in  print  before,  having  been 
originally  written  for  two  Christmas  annuals  which 
were  issued  some  years  back.  With  the  belief  that 
the  stories  are,  however,  still  unknown  to  the  larger 
portion  of  Mr.  Crawford's  public,  and  in  the  opinion 
that  they  aie  well  worthy  of  preservation  in  more 
permanent  form,  the  publishers  have  decided  to  re- 
print them  as  the  initial  volume  of  the  "  Autonym  " 
library. 


PS 


THE  UPPER  BERTH 


2061867 


The  Upper  Berth. 

SOMEBODY  asked  for  the 
cigars!  We  had  talked  long, 
and  the  conversation  was  begin- 
ning to  languish ;  the  tobacco 
smoke  had  got  into  the  heavy 
curtains,  the  wine  had  got  into 
those  brains  which  were  liable  to 
become  heavy,  and  it  was  already 
perfectly  evident  that,  unless 
somebody  did  something  to 
rouse  our  oppressed  spirits,  the 
meeting  would  soon  come  to  its 
natural  conclusion,  and  we,  the 
guests,  would  speedily  go  home  to 
bed,  and  most  certainly  to  sleep. 
No  one  had  said  anything  very 
3 


Tapper  JSertb 


remarkable ;  it  may  be  that  no 
one  had  anything  very  remarkable 
to  say.  Jones  had  given  us  every 
particular  of  his  last  hunting  ad- 
venture in  Yorkshire.  Mr.  Tomp- 
kins,  of  Boston,  had  explained  at 
elaborate  length  those  working 
principles,  by  the  due  and  careful 
maintenance  of  which  the  Atchi- 
son,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Rail- 
road not  only  extended  its  terri- 
tory, increased  its  departmental 
influence,  and  transported  live 
stock  without  starving  them  to 
death  before  the  day  of  actual 
delivery,  but,  also,  had  for  years 
succeeded  in  deceiving  those  pas- 
sengers who  bought  its  tickets  into 
the  fallacious  belief  that  the  cor- 
poration aforesaid  was  really  able 
to  transport  human  life  without 
destroying  it.  Signer  Tombola 
had  endeavoured  to  persuade  us, 


tTbe  "dppcr  JScrtb 


by  arguments  which  we  took  no 
trouble  to  oppose,  that  the  unity 
of  his  country  in  no  way  resembled 
the  average  modern  torpedo,  care- 
fully planned,  constructed  with  all 
the  skill  of  the  greatest  European 
arsenals,  but,  when  constructed, 
destined  to  be  directed  by  feeble 
hands  into  a  region  where  it  must 
undoubtedly  explode,  unseen,  un- 
feared,  and  unheard,  into  the 
illimitable  wastesof  political  chaos. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  go  into 
further  details.  The  conversation 
had  assumed  proportions  which 
would  have  bored  Prometheus  on 
his  rock,  which  would  have  driven 
Tantalus  to  distraction,  and  which 
would  have  impelled  Ixion  to  seek 
relaxation  in  the  simple  but  in- 
structive dialogues  of  Herr  Ollen- 
dorff,  rather  than  submit  to  the 
greater  evil  of  listening  to  our  talk. 


Cbe  "Upper  JBcrtb 


We  had  sat  at  table  for  hours  ;  we 
were  bored,  we  were  tired,  and 
nobody  showed  signs  of  moving. 

Somebody  called  for  cigars. 
We  all  instinctively  looked  tow- 
ards the  speaker.  Brisbane  was 
a  man  of  five-and-thirty  years  of 
age,  and  remarkable  for  those 
gifts  which  chiefly  attract  the 
attention  of  men.  He  was  a 
strong  man.  The  external  pro- 
portions of  his  figure  presented 
nothing  extraordinary  to  the  com- 
mon eye,  though  his  size  was 
above  the  average.  He  was  a 
little  over  six  feet  in  height,  and 
moderately  broad  in  the  shoulder; 
he  did  not  appear  to  be  stout,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  was  cer- 
tainly not  thin  ;  his  small  head  was 
supported  by  a  strong  and  sinewy 
neck ;  his  broad  muscular  hands 
appeared  to  possess  a  peculiar 


TUpper  JSertb 


skill  in  breaking  walnuts  without 
the  assistance  of  the  ordinary 
cracker,  and,  seeing  him  in  profile, 
one  could  not  help  remarking  the 
extraordinary  breadth  of  his 
sleeves,  and  the  unusual  thickness 
of  his  chest.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  who  are  commonly  spoken  of 
among  men  as  deceptive  ;  that  is 
to  say,  that  though  he  looked  ex- 
ceedingly strong  he  was  in  reality 
very  much  stronger  than  he  looked. 
Of  his  features  I  need  say  little. 
His  head  is  small,  his  hair  is  thin, 
his  eyes  are  blue,  his  nose  is  large, 
he  has  a  small  moustache,  and  a 
square  jaw.  Everybody  knows 
Brisbane,  and  when  he  asked 
for  a  cigar  everybody  looked  at 
him. 

"  It  is  a  very  singular  thing," 
said  Brisbane. 

Everybody    stopped       talking. 


"Hipper  ;JBertb 


Brisbane's  voice  was  not  loud,  but 
possessed  a  peculiar  quality  of 
penetrating  general  conversation, 
and  cutting  it  like  a  knife.  Every- 
body listened.  Brisbane, perceiving 
that  he  had  attracted  their  general 
attention,  lit  his  cigar  with  great 
equanimity. 

"  It  is  very  singular,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  that  thing  about  ghosts. 
People  are  always  asking  whether 
anybody  has  seen  a  ghost.  I 
have." 

"  Bosh  !  What,  you  ?  You  don't 
mean  to  say  so,  Brisbane  ?  Well, 
for  a  man  of  his  intelligence  !  " 

A  chorus  of  exclamations 
greeted  Brisbane's  remarkable 
statement.  Everybody  called  for 
cigars,  and  Stubbs  the  butler  sud- 
denly appeared  from  the  depths 
of  nowhere  with  a  fresh  bottle  of 
dry  champagne.  The  situation 


Cbe  Tapper  JSertb 


was  saved  ;  Brisbane  was  going  to 
tell  a  story. 

I  am  an  old  sailor,  said  Bris- 
bane, and  as  I  have  to  cross  the 
Atlantic  pretty  often,  I  have  my 
favourites.  Most  men  have  their 
favourites.  I  have  seen  a  man  wait 
in  a  Broadway  bar  for  three-quar- 
ters of  an  hour  for  a  particular  car 
which  he  liked.  I  believe  the  bar- 
keeper made  at  least  one-third  of 
his  living  by  that  man's  preference. 
I  have  a  habit  of  waiting  for  cer- 
tain ships  when  I  am  obliged  to 
cross  that  duck-pond.  It  may  be  a 
prejudice,  but  I  was  never  cheated 
out  of  a  good  passage  but  once  in 
my  life.  I  remember  it  very  well ; 
it  was  a  warm  morning  in  June, 
and  the  Custom  House  officials, 
who  were  hanging  about  waiting 
for  a  steamer  already  on  her  way  up 
from  the  Quarantine,  presented  a 


Tapper  JBertb 


peculiarly  hazy  and  thoughtful  ap- 
pearance. I  had  not  much  luggage 
— I  never  have.  I  mingled  with 
the  crowd  of  passengers,  porters, 
and  officious  individuals  in  blue 
coats  and  brass  buttons,  who 
seemed  to  spring  up  like  mush- 
rooms from  the  deck  of  a  moored 
steamer  to  obtrude  their  unneces- 
sary services  upon  the  indepen- 
dent passenger.  I  have  often 
noticed  with  a  certain  interest  the 
spontaneous  evolution  of  these 
fellows.  They  are  not  there  when 
you  arrive  ;  five  minutes  after  the 
pilot  has  called  "  Go  ahead  ! " 
they,  or  at  least  their  blue  coats 
and  brass  buttons,  have  disap- 
peared from  deck  and  gangway 
as  completely  as  though  they  had 
been  consigned  to  that  locker 
which  tradition  unanimously  as- 
cribes to  Davy  Jones.  But,  at  the 


Tapper 


moment  of  starting,  they  are  there, 
clean  -  shaved,  blue -coated,  and 
ravenous  for  fees.  I  hastened  on 
board.  The  Kamtscliatka  was  one 
of  my  favourite  ships.  I  say  was, 
because  she  emphatically  no 
longer  is.  I  cannot  conceive  of 
any  inducement  which  could  en- 
tice me  to  make  another  voyage 
in  her.  Yes,  I  know  what  you  are 
going  to  say.  She  is  uncommonly 
clean  in  the  run  aft,  she  has 
enough  bluffing  off  in  the  bows  to 
keep  her  dry,  and  the  lower  berths 
are  most  of  them  double.  She  has 
a  lot  of  advantages,  but  I  won't 
cross  in  her  again.  Excuse  the 
digression.  I  got  on  board.  I 
hailed  a  steward,  whose  red  nose 
and  redder  whiskers  were  equally 
familiar  to  me. 

"  One  hundred  and  five,  lower 
berth,"  said  I,  in  the  businesslike 


Cbe  TUppec  JBertb 


tone  peculiar  to  men  who  think  no 
more  of  crossing  the  Atlantic  than 
taking  a  whisky  cocktail  at  down- 
town Delmonico's. 

The  steward  took  my  portman- 
teau, great  coat,  and  rug.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  expression  of  his 
face.  Not  that  he  turned  pale. 
It  is  maintained  by  the  most  emi- 
nent divines  that  even  miracles 
cannot  change  the  course  of  nature. 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
he  did  not  turn  pale  ;  but,  from 
his  expression,  I  judged  that  he 
was  either  about  to  shed  tears,  to 
sneeze,  or  to  drop  my  portman- 
teau. As  the  latter  contained  two 
bottles  of  particularly  fine  old 
sherry  presented  to  me  for  my 
voyage  by  my  old  friend  Sniggin- 
son  van  Pickyns,  I  felt  extremely 
nervous.  But  the  steward  did 
none  of  these  things. 


Gbe  Tapper  JBertb  13 

"  Well,  I  'm  d d  !  "  said 

he  in  a  low  voice,  and  led  the 
way. 

I  supposed  my  Hermes,  as  he 
led  me  to  the  lower  regions,  had 
had  a  little  grog,  but  I  said  noth- 
ing, and  followed  him.  One  hun- 
dred and  five  was  on  the  port 
side,  well  aft.  There  was  noth- 
ing remarkable  about  the  state- 
room. The  lower  berth,  like 
most  of  those  upon  the  Kamt- 
schatka,  was  double.  There  was 
plenty  of  room ;  there  was  the 
usual  washing  apparatus,  calcu- 
lated to  convey  an  idea  of  luxury 
to  the  mind  of  a  North-American 
Indian  ;  there  were  the  usual  in- 
efficient racks  of  brown  wood,  in 
which  it  is  more  easy  to  hang  a 
large-sized  umbrella  than  the  com- 
mon tooth-brush  of  commerce. 
Upon  the  uninviting  mattresses 


14  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 


were  carefully  folded  together 
those  blankets  which  a  great  mod- 
ern humorist  has  aptly  compared 
to  cold  buckwheat  cakes.  The 
question  of  towels  was  left  entirely 
to  the  imagination.  The  glass 
decanters  were  filled  with  a  trans- 
parent liquid  faintly  tinged  with 
brown,  but  from  which  an  odor 
less  faint,  but  not  more  pleasing, 
ascended  to  the  nostrils,  like  a  far- 
off  sea-sick  reminiscence  of  oily 
machinery.  Sad-coloured  curtains 
half-closed  the  upper  berth.  The 
hazy  June  daylight  shed  a  faint 
illumination  upon  the  desolate 
little  scene.  Ugh !  how  I  hate 
that  state-room ! 

The  steward  deposited  my  traps 
and  looked  at  me,  as  though  he 
wanted  to  get  away — probably  in 
search  of  more  passengers  and 
more  fees.  It  is  always  a  good 


tipper  JBertb  15 


plan  to  start  in  favour  with  those 
functionaries,  and  I  accordingly 
gave  him  certain  coins  there  and 
then. 

"  I  '11  try  and  make  yer  com- 
fortable all  I  can,"  he  remarked, 
as  he  put  the  coins  in  his  pocket. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  a  doubt- 
ful intonation  in  his  voice  which 
surprised  me.  Possibly  his  scale 
of  fees  had  gone  up,  and  he  was 
not  satisfied  ;  but  on  the  whole  I 
was  inclined  to  think  that,  as  he 
himself  would  have  expressed  it, 
he  was  "  the  better  for  a  glass." 
I  was  wrong,  however,  and  did  the 
man  injustice. 


II. 

NOTHING  especially  worthy 
of  mention  occurred  during 
that  day.  We  left  the  pier  punc- 
tually, and  it  was  very  pleasant  to 
be  fairly  under  way,  for  the  weather 
was  warm  and  sultry,  and  the 
motion  of  the  steamer  produced 
a  refreshing  breeze.  Everybody 
knows  what  the  first  day  at  sea  is 
like.  People  pace  the  decks  and 
stare  at  each  other,  and  occasion- 
ally meet  acquaintances  whom 
they  did  not  know  to  be  on  board. 
There  is  the  usual  uncertainty  as 
to  whether  the  food  will  be  good, 
bad,  or  indifferent,  until  the  first 
two  meals  have  put  the  matter  be- 
16 


Tapper  JBertb  17 


yond  a  doubt  ;  there  is  the  usual 
uncertainty  about  the  weather, 
until  the  ship  is  fairly  off  Fire 
Island.  The  tables  are  crowded 
at  first,  and  then  suddenly  thinned. 
Pale-faced  people  spring  from  their 
seats  and  precipitate  themselves 
towards  the  door,  and  each  old 
sailor  breathes  more  freely  as  his 
sea-sick  neighbour  rushes  from  his 
side,  leaving  him  plenty  of  elbow 
room  and  an  unlimited  command 
over  the  mustard. 

One  passage  across  the  Atlantic 
is  very  much  like  another,  and  we 
who  cross  very  often  do  not  make 
the  voyage  for  the  sake  of  novelty. 
Whales  and  icebergs  are  indeed 
always  objects  of  interest,  but, 
after  all,  one  whale  is  very  much 
like  another  whale,  and  one  rarely 
sees  an  iceberg  at  close  quarters. 
To  the  majority  of  us  the  most 


is  Gbe  THpper  JBcrtb 


delightful  moment  of  the  day  on 
board  an  ocean  steamer  is  when 
we  have  taken  our  last  turn  on 
deck,  have  smoked  our  last  cigar, 
and  having  succeeded  in  tiring  our- 
selves, feel  at  liberty  to  turn  in 
with  a  clear  conscience.  On  that 
first  night  of  the  voyage  I  felt  par- 
ticularly lazy,  and  went  to  bed  in 
one  hundred  and  five  rather  earlier 
than  I  usually  do.  As  I  turned  in, 
I  was  amazed  to  see  that  I  was  to 
have  a  companion.  A  portman- 
teau, very  like  my  own,  lay  in  the 
opposite  corner,  and  in  the  upper 
berth  had  been  deposited  a  neatly 
folded  rug  with  a  stick  and  um- 
brella. I  had  hoped  to  be  alone, 
and  I  was  disappointed  ;  but  I 
wondered  who  my  room-mate  was 
to  be,  and  I  determined  to  have 
a  look  at  him. 

Before   I    had  been  long  in  bed 


THpper  JBertb  19 


he  entered.  He  was,  as  far  as  I 
could  see,  a  very  tall  man,  very 
thin,  very  pale,  with  sandy  hair 
and  whiskers  and  colourless  grey 
eyes.  He  had  about  him,  I 
thought,  an  air  of  rather  dubious 
fashion  ;  the  sort  of  man  you 
might  see  in  Wall  Street,  without 
being  able  precisely  to  say  what 
he  was  doing  there  —  the  sort  of 
man  who  frequents  the  Caf6 
Anglais,  who  always  seems  to  be 
alone  and  who  drinks  champagne  ; 
you  might  meet  him  on  a  race- 
course, but  he  would  never  appear 
to  be  doing  anything  there  either. 
A  little  over-dressed  —  a  little  odd. 
There  are  three  or  four  of  his  kind 
on  every  ocean  steamer.  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I  did  not  care  to 
make  his  acquaintance,  and  I  went 
to  sleep  saying  to  myself  that  I 
would  study  his  habits  in  order  to 


20  Gbe  Upper  JBertb 


avoid  him.  If  he  rose  early,  I 
would  rise  late  ;  if  he  went  to  bed 
late,  I  would  go  to  bed  early.  I 
did  not  care  to  know  him.  If  you 
once  know  people  of  that  kind 
they  are  always  turning  up.  Poor 
fellow !  I  need  not  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  come  to  so  many  deci- 
sions about  him,  for  I  never  saw 
him  again  after  that  first  night  in 
one  hundred  and  five. 

I  was  sleeping  soundly  when  I 
was  suddenly  waked  by  a  loud 
noise.  To  judge  from  the  sound, 
my  room-mate  must  have  sprung 
with  a  single  leap  from  the  upper 
berth  to  the  floor.  I  heard  him 
fumbling  with  the  latch  and  bolt 
of  the  door,  which  opened  almost 
immediately,  and  then  I  heard  his 
footsteps  as  he  ran  at  full  speed 
down  the  passage,  leaving  the  door 
open  behind  him.  The  ship  was 


"Glpper  JBertb 


rolling  a  little,  and  I  expected  to 
hear  him  stumble  or  fall,  but  he 
ran  as  though  he  were  running  for 
his  life.  The  door  swung  on  its 
hinges  with  the  motion  of  the  ves- 
sel, and  the  sound  annoyed  me.  I 
got  up  and  shut  it,  and  groped  my 
way  back  to  my  berth  in  the  dark- 
ness. I  went  to  sleep  again  ;  but 
I  have  no  idea  how  long  I  slept. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  still  quite 
dark,  but  I  felt  a  disagreeable  sen- 
sation of  cold,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  air  was  damp.  You  know 
the  peculiar  smell  of  a  cabin  which 
has  been  wet  with  sea  water.  I 
covered  myself  up  as  well  as  I 
could  and  dozed  off  again,  framing 
complaints  to  be  made  the  next 
day,  and  selecting  the  most  power- 
ful epithets  in  the  language.  I 
could  hear  my  room-mate  turn 
over  in  the  upper  berth.  He  had 


22  abe  Tapper  JBertb 

probably  returned  while  I  was 
asleep.  Once  I  thought  I  heard 
him  groan,  and  I  argued  that  he 
was  sea-sick.  That  is  particularly 
unpleasant  when  one  is  below. 
Nevertheless  I  dozed  off  and  slept 
till  early  daylight. 

The  ship  was  rolling  heavily, 
much  more  than  on  the  previous 
evening,  and  the  grey  light  which 
came  in  through  the  porthole 
changed  in  tint  with  every  move- 
ment according  as  the  angle  of 
the  vessel's  side  turned  the  glass 
seawards  or  skywards.  It  was 
very  cold — unaccountably  so  for 
the  month  of  June.  I  turned  my 
head  and  looked  at  the  porthole, 
and  saw  to  my  surprise  that  it  was 
wide  open  and  hooked  back.  I  be- 
lieve I  swore  audibly.  Then  I  got 
up  and  shut  it.  As  I  turned  back  I 
glanced  at  the  upper  berth.  The 


THpper  JBertb  23 


curtains  were  drawn  close  to- 
gether ;  my  companion  had  prob- 
ably felt  cold  as  well  as  I.  It 
struck  me  that  I  had  slept  enough. 
The  state-room  was  uncomforta- 
ble, though,  strange  to  say,  I  could 
not  smell  the  dampness  which  had 
annoyed  me  in  the  night.  My 
roorn-mate  was  still  asleep  —  excel- 
lent opportunity  for  avoiding  him, 
so  I  dressed  at  once  and  went  on 
deck.  The  day  was  warm  and 
cloudy,  with  an  oily  smell  on  the 
water.  It  was  seven  o'clock  as  I 
came  out  —  much  later  than  I  had 
imagined.  I  came  across  the  doc- 
tor, who  was  taking  his  first  sniff 
of  the  morning  air.  He  was  a 
young  man  from  the  West  of 
Ireland  —  a  tremendous  fellow, 
with  black  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
already  inclined  to  be  stout  ;  he 
had  a  happy-go-lucky,  healthy  look 


24  Cbe  tapper  36ertb 

about  him  which  was  rather  at- 
tractive. 

"  Fine  morning,"  I  remarked, 
by  way  of  introduction. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  eying  me  with 
an  air  of  ready  interest,  "  it  's  a 
fine  morning  and  it  's  not  a  fine 
morning.  I  don't  think  it 's  much 
of  a  morning." 

"  Well,  no — it  is  not  so  very 
fine,"  said  I. 

"  It  's  just  what  I  call  fuggly 
weather,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  It  was  very  cold  last  night,  I 
thought,"  I  remarked.  "  How- 
ever, when  I  looked  about,  I  found 
that  the  porthole  was  wide  open.  I 
had  not  noticed  it  when  I  went 
to  bed.  And  the  state-room  \vas 
damp,  too." 

"  Damp  !  "  said  he.  "  Where- 
abouts are  you  ?  " 

"One  hundred  and  five " 


THpper  JBertb  25 


To  my  surprise  the  doctor 
started  visibly,  and  stared  at  me. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Oh  —  nothing,"  he  answered; 
"  only  everybody  has  complained 
of  that  state-room  for  the  last 
three  trips." 

"  I  shall  complain  too,"  I  said. 
"  It  has  certainly  not  been  properly 
aired.  It  is  a  shame  !  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it  can  be 
helped,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  I 
believe  there  is  something  -- 
well,  it  is  not  my  business  to 
frighten  passengers." 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  of 
frightening  me,"  I  replied.  "  I  can 
stand  any  amount  of  damp.  If  I 
should  get  a  bad  cold  I  will  come 
to  you." 

I  offered  the  doctor  a  cigar, 
which  he  took  and  examined  very 
critically. 


26  abe  TUpper  JBertb 


"  It  is  not  so  much  the  damp," 
he  remarked.  "  However,  I  dare 
say  you  will  get  on  very  well.  Have 
you  a  room-mate  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  a  deuce  of  a  fellow,  who 
bolts  out  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  leaves  the  door  open." 

Again  the  doctor  glanced  curi- 
ously at  me.  Then  he  lit  the  cigar 
and  looked  grave. 

"  Did  he  come  back  ?  "  he  asked 
presently. 

"  Yes.  I  was  asleep,  but  I 
waked  up  and  heard  him  moving. 
Then  I  felt  cold  and  went  to  sleep 
again.  This  morning  I  found  the 
porthole  open." 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  doctor, 
quietly,  "  I  don't  care  much  for 
this  ship.  I  don't  care  a  rap  for 
her  reputation.  I  tell  you  what  I 
will  do.  I  have  a  good-sized  place 
up  here.  I  will  share  it  with  you, 


Che  tapper  JSertb  27 

though  I  don't  know  you  from 
Adam." 

I  was  very  much  surprised  at 
the  proposition.  I  could  not  im- 
agine why  he  should  take  such  a 
sudden  interest  in  my  welfare. 
However,  his  manner  as  he  spoke 
of  the  ship  was  peculiar. 

"  You  are  very  good,  doctor,"  I 
said.  "  But  really,  I  believe  even 
now  the  cabin  could  be  aired,  or 
cleaned  out,  or  something.  Why 
do  you  not  care  for  the  ship  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  superstitious  in  our 
profession,  sir,"  replied  the  doctor. 
"  But  the  sea  makes  people  so.  I 
don't  want  to  prejudice  you,  and 
I  don't  want  to  frighten  you,  but 
if  you  will  take  my  advice  you  will 
move  in  here.  I  would  as  soon  see 
you  overboard, "he added,  "as know 
that  you  or  any  other  man  was  to 
sleep  in  one  hundred  and  five." 


28  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 


"Good  gracious!  Why?"  I 
asked. 

"  Just  because  on  the  last  three 
trips  the  people  who  have  slept 
there  actually  have  gone  over- 
board," he  answered,  gravely. 

The  intelligence  was  startling 
and  exceedingly  unpleasant,  I  con- 
fess. I  looked  hard  at  the  doctor 
to  see  whether  he  was  making 
game  of  me,  but  he  looked  per- 
fectly serious.  I  thanked  him 
warmly  for  his  offer,  but  told  him 
I  intended  to  be  the  exception  to 
the  rule  by  which  every  one  who 
slept  in  that  particular  state-room 
went  overboard.  He  did  not  say 
much,  but  looked  as  grave  as  ever, 
and  hinted  that  before  we  got 
across  I  should  probably  reconsider 
his  proposal.  In  the  course  of 
time  we  went  to  breakfast,  at  which 
only  an  inconsiderable  number  of 


Tapper  JBertb  29 

passengers  assembled.  I  noticed 
that  one  or  two  of  the  officers  who 
breakfasted  with  us  looked  grave. 
After  breakfast  I  went  into  my 
state-room  in  order  to  get  a  book. 
The  curtains  of  the  upper  berth 
were  still  closely  drawn.  Not  a 
word  was  to  be  heard.  My  room- 
mate was  probably  still  asleep. 

As  I  came  out  I  met  the  steward 
whose  business  it  was  to  look  after 
me.  He  whispered  that  the  cap- 
tain wanted  to  see  me,  and  then 
scuttled  away  down  the  passage  as 
if  very  anxious  to  avoid  any  ques- 
tions. I  went  toward  the  captain's 
cabin,  and  found  him  waiting  for 
me. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  ask 
a  favour  of  you." 

I  answered  that  I  would  do  any- 
thing to  oblige  him. 

"  Your    room-mate    has    disap- 


30  Cbe  "Hipper  JScrtb 


pearcd,"  he  said.  "  He  is  known 
to  have  turned  in  early  last  night. 
Did  you  notice  anything  extraor- 
dinary in  his  manner?" 

The  question  coming,  as  it  did, 
in  exact  confirmation  of  the  fears 
the  doctor  had  expressed  half  an 
hour  earlier,  staggered  me. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  has 
gone  overboard  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  fear  he  has,"  answered  the 
captain. 

"  This  is  the  most  extraordinary 
thing —  "  I  began. 

"Why?"  he  asked. 

"  He  is  the  fourth,  then  ?  "  I 
explained.  In  answer  to  another 
question  from  the  captain,  I  ex- 
plained, without  mentioning  the 
doctor,  that  I  had  heard  the  story 
concerning  one  hundred  and  five. 
He  seemed  very  much  annoyed  at 
hearingthat  I  knewof  it.  I  told  him 
what  had  occurred  in  the  night. 


tlbe  TUpper  SSertb  31 

"  What  you  say,"  he  replied, 
"  coincides  almost  exactly  with 
what  was  told  me  by  the  room- 
mates of  two  of  the  other  three. 
They  bolt  out  of  bed  and  run 
down  the  passage.  Two  of  them 
were  seen  to  go  overboard  by  the 
watch  ;  we  stopped  and  lowered 
boats,  bu-t  they  were  not  found. 
Nobody,  however,  saw  or  heard 
the  man  who  was  lost  last  night — 
if  he  is  really  lost.  The  steward, 
who  is  a  superstitious  fellow,  per- 
haps, and  expected  something  to 
go  wrong,  went  to  look  for  him 
this  morning,  and  found  his  berth 
empty,  but  his  clothes  lying  about, 
just  as  he  had  left  them.  The 
steward  was  the  only  man  on  board 
who  knew  him  by  sight,  and  he 
has  been  searching  everywhere  for 
him.  He  has  disappeared  !  Now, 
sir,  I  want  to  beg  you  not  to  men- 
tion the  circumstance  to  any  of 


32  ttbe  THpper  JBertb 


the  passengers  ;•  I  don't  want  the 
ship  to  get  a  bad  name,  and 
nothing  hangs  about  an  ocean- 
goer  like  stories  of  suicides.  You 
shall  have  your  choice  of  any  one 
of  the  officers'  cabins  you  like, 
including  my  own,  for  the  rest  of 
the  passage.  Is  that  a  fair  bar- 
gain ?  " 

"  Very,"  said  I  ;  "  and  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you.  But  since 
I  am  alone,  and  have  the  state- 
room to  myself,  I  would  rather 
not  move.  If  the  steward  will 
take  out  that  unfortunate  man's 
things,  I  would  as  leave  stay  where 
I  am.  I  will  not  say  anything 
about  the  matter,  and  I  think  I 
can  promise  you  that  I  will  not 
follow  my  room-mate." 

The  captain  tried  to  dissuade 
me  from  my  intention,  but  I  pre- 
ferred having  a  state-room  alone 


TUpper  JBertb  33 


to  being  the  chum  of  any  officer 
on  board.  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  acted  foolishly,  but  if  I  had 
taken  his  advice  I  should  have 
had  nothing  more  to  tell.  There 
would  have  remained  the  disagree- 
able coincidence  of  several  suicides 
occurring  among  men  who  had 
slept  in  the  same  cabin,  but  that 
would  have  been  all. 

That  was  not  the  end  of  the 
matter,  however,  by  any  means. 
I  obstinately  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  not  be  disturbed  by 
such  tales,  and  I  even  went  so  far 
as  to  argue  the  question  with  the 
captain.  There  was  something 
wrong  about  the  state-room,  I 
said.  It  was  rather  damp.  The 
porthole  had  been  left  open  last 
night.  My  room-mate  might 
have  been  ill  when  he  came  on 
board,  and  he  might  have  become 


34  Gbe  tipper  SSertb 


delirious  after  he  went  to  bed. 
He  might  even  now  be  hiding 
somewhere  on  board,  and  might 
be  found  later.  The  place  ought 
to  be  aired  and  the  fastening  of 
the  port  looked  to.  If  the  captain 
would  give  me  leave,  I  would  see 
that  what  I  thought  necessary 
were  done  immediately. 

"  Of  course  you  have  a  right  to 
stay  where  you  are  if  you  please," 
he  replied,  rather  petulantly  ;  "  but 
I  wish  you  would  turn  out  and  let 
me  lock  the  place  up,  and  be  done 
with  it." 

I  did  not  see  it  in  the  same 
light,  and  left  the  captain,  after 
promising  to  be  silent  concerning 
the  disappearance  of  my  com- 
panion. The  latter  had  had  no 
acquaintances  on  board,  and  was 
not  missed  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  Towards  evening  I  met  the 


tipper  JBertb  35 


doctor  again,  and  he  asked  me 
whether  I  had  changed  my  mind. 
I  told  him  I  had  not. 

"  Then    you    will  before  long," 
he  said,  very  gravely. 


III. 

WE  played  whist  in  the  even- 
ing, and  I  went  to  bed 
late.  I  will  confess  now  that  I 
felt  a  disagreeable  sensation  when 
I  entered  my  state-room.  I  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  tall  man 
I  had  seen  on  the  previous  night, 
who  was  now  dead,  drowned,  toss- 
ing about  in  the  long  swell,  two  or 
three  hundred  miles  astern.  His 
face  rose  very  distinctly  before  me 
as  I  undressed,  and  I  even  went 
so  far  as  to  draw  back  the  curtains 
of  the  upper  berth,  as  though  to 
persuade  myself  that  he  was  actu- 
ally gone.  I  also  bolted  the  door 
of  the  state-room.  Suddenly  I 
36 


Tapper  ascrtb  37 


became  aware  that  the  porthole 
was  open,  and  fastened  back. 
This  was  more  than  I  could  stand. 
I  hastily  threw  on  my  dressing- 
gown  and  went  in  search  of 
Robert,  the  steward  of  my  pas- 
sage. I  was  very  angry,  I  remem- 
ber, and  when  I  found  him  I 
dragged  him  roughly  to  the  door 
of  onehundred  and  five,  and  pushed 
him  towards  the  open  porthole. 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean, 
you  scoundrel,  by  leaving  that 
port  open  every  night  ?  Don't 
you  know  it  is  against  the  regula- 
tions ?  Don't  you  know  that  if 
the  ship  heeled  and  the  water  be- 
gan to  come  in,  ten  men  could  not 
shut  it  ?  I  will  report  you  to  the 
captain,  you  blackguard,  for  en- 
dangering the  ship  !  " 

I  was  exceedingly  wroth.  The 
man  trembled  and  turned  pale, 


38  Cbe  "dpper  JBertb 

and  then  began  to  shut  the  round 
glass  plate  with  the  heavy  brass 
fittings. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me?" 
I  said,  roughly. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  faltered 
Robert,  "  there  's  nobody  on  board 
as  can  keep  this  'ere  port  shut  at 
night.  You  can  try  it  yourself, 
sir.  I  ain't  a-going  to  stop  hany 
longer  on  board  o'  this  vessel,  sir ; 
I  ain't,  indeed.  But  if  I  was  you, 
sir,  I  'd  just  clear  out  and  go  and 
sleep  with  the  surgeon,  or  some- 
thing, I  would.  Look  'ere,  sir,  is 
that  fastened  what  you  may  call 
securely,  or  not,  sir  ?  Try  it,  sir, 
see  if  it  will  move  a  hinch." 

I  tried  the  port,  and  found  it 
perfectly  tight. 

"  Well,  sir,"  continued  Robert, 
triumphantly,  "  I  wager  my  repu- 
tation as  a  A  i  steward,  that  in  'arf 


Cbe  tapper  JSertb  39 

an  hour  it  will  be  open  again  ; 
fastened  back,  too,  sir,  that  's  the 
horful  thing — fastened  back  !  " 

I  examined  the  great  screw  and 
the  looped  nut  that  ran  on  it. 

"  If  I  find  it  open  in  the  night, 
Robert,  I  will  give  you  a  sover- 
eign. It  is  not  possible.  You 
may  go.'-' 

"  Soverin'  did  you  say,  sir? 
Very  good,  sir.  Thank  ye,  sir. 
Good  night,  sir.  Pleasant  reepose, 
sir,  and  all  manner  of  hinchantin' 
dreams,  sir." 

Robert  scuttled  away,  delighted 
at  being  released.  Of  course,  I 
thought  he  was  trying  to  account 
for  his  negligence  by  a  silly  story, 
intended  to  frighten  me,  and  I 
disbelieved  him.  The  consequence 
was  that  he  got  his  sovereign,  and 
I  spent  a  very  peculiarly  unpleas- 
ant night. 


40  abe  tnpper  JScrtb 

I  went  to  bed,  and  five  minutes 
after  I  had  rolled  myself  up  in  my 
blankets  the  inexorable  Robert 
extinguished  the  light  that  burned 
steadily  behind  the  ground-glass 
pane  near  the  door.  I  lay  quite 
still  in  the  dark  trying  to  go  to 
sleep,  but  I  soon  found  that  im- 
possible. It  had  been  some  satis- 
faction to  be  angry  with  the 
steward,  and  the  diversion  had 
banished  that  unpleasant  sensation 
I  had  at  first  experienced  when  I 
thought  of  the  drowned  man  who 
had  been  my  chum  ;  but  I  was  no 
longer  sleepy,  and  I  lay  awake  for 
some  time,  occasionally  glancing 
at  the  porthole,  which  I  could  just 
see  from  where  I  lay,  and  which, 
in  the  darkness,  looked  like  a 
faintly-luminous  soup-plate  sus- 
pended in  blackness.  I  believe  I 
must  have  lain  there  for  an  hour, 


TUpper  3Bertb  41 


and,  as  I  remember,  I  was  just 
dozing  into  sleep  when  I  was 
roused  by  a  draught  of  cold  air 
and  by  distinctly  feeling  the  spray 
of  the  sea  blown  upon  my  face.  I 
started  to  my  feet,  and  not  having 
allowed  in  the  dark  for  the  motion 
of  the  ship,  I  was  instantly  thrown 
violently  across  the  state-room 
upon  the  couch  which  was  placed 
beneath  the  porthole.  I  recovered 
myself  immediately,  however,  and 
climbed  upon  my  knees.  The 
porthole  was  again  wide  open  and 
fastened  back  ! 

Now  these  things  are  facts.  I 
was  wide  awake  when  I  got  up, 
and  I  should  certainly  have  been 
waked  by  the  fall  had  I  still  been 
dozing.  Moreover,  I  bruised  my 
elbows  and  knees  badly,  and  the 
bruises  were  there  on  the  following 
morning  to  testify  to  the  fact,  if  I 


42  £be  Tapper  3Bertb 


myself  had  doubted  it.  The  port- 
hole was  wide  open  and  fastened 
back — a  thing  so  unaccountable 
that  I  remember  very  well  feeling 
astonishment  rather  than  fear 
when  I  discovered  it.  I  at  once 
closed  the  plate  again  and  screwed 
down  the  loop  nut  with  all  my 
strength.  It  was  very  dark  in  the 
state-room.  I  reflected  that  the 
port  had  certainly  been  opened 
within  an  hour  after  Robert  had 
at  first  shut  it  in  my  presence,  and 
I  determined  to  watch  it  and  see 
whether  it  would  open  again. 
Those  brass  fittings  are  very  heavy 
and  by  no  means  easy  to  move  ; 
I  could  not  believe  that  the  clump 
had  been  turned  by  the  shaking 
of  the  screw.  I  stood  peering  out 
through  the  thick  glass  at  the  al- 
ternate white  and  grey  streaks  of 
the  sea  that  foamed  beneath  the 


"tapper  JBertb  43 


ship's  side.  I  must  have  remained 
there  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Suddenly,  as  I  stood,  I  distinctly 
heard  something  moving  behind 
me  in  one  of  the  berths,  and  a 
moment  afterwards,  just  as  I 
turned  instinctively  to  look  — 
though  I  could,  of  course,  see 
nothing  in  the  darkness  —  I  heard 
a  very  faint  groan.  I  sprang 
across  the  state-room,  and  tore  the 
curtains  of  the  upper  berth  aside, 
thrusting  in  my  hands  to  discover 
if  there  were  any  one  there. 
There  was  some  one. 

I  remember  that  the  sensation 
as  I  put  my  hands  forward  was  as 
though  I  were  plunging  them  into 
the  air  of  a  damp  cellar,  and  from 
behind  the  curtain  came  a  gust  of 
wind  that  smelled  horribly  of  stag- 
nant sea-water.  I  laid  hold  of 
something  that  had  the  shape  of 


44  Cbc  Tapper  JSertb 


a  man's  arm,  but  was  smooth,  and 
wet,  and  icy  cold.  But  suddenly, 
as  I  pulled,  the  creature  sprang 
violently  forward  against  me,  a 
clammy,  oozy  mass,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  heavy  and  wet,  yet  en- 
dowed with  a  sort  of  supernatural 
strength.  I  reeled  across  the 
state-room,  and  in  an  instant  the 
door  opened  and  the  thing  rushed 
out.  I  had  not  had  time  to  be 
frightened,  and  quickly  recovering 
myself,  I  sprang  through  the  door 
and  gave  chase  at  the  top  of  my 
speed,  but  I  was  too  late.  Ten 
yards  before  me  I  could  see — I 
am  sure  I  saw  it — a  dark  shadow 
moving  in  the  dimly  lighted  pas- 
sage, quickly  as  the  shadow  of  a 
fast  horse  thrown  before  a  dog- 
cart by  the  lamp  on  a  dark  night. 
But  in  a  moment  it  had  disap- 
peared, and  I  found  myself  hold- 


tTbe  tapper  JScrtb  45 


ing  on  to  the  polished  rail  that 
ran  along  the  bulkhead  where  the 
passage  turned  towards  the  com- 
panion. My  hair  stood  on  end, 
and  the  cold  perspiration  rolled 
down  my  face.  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  it  in  the  least :  I  was  very  badly 
frightened. 

Still  I  doubted  my  senses,  and 
pulled  myself  together.  It  was 
absurd,  I  thought.  The  Welsh 
rare-bit  I  had  eaten  had  disagreed 
with  me.  I  had  been  in  a  night- 
mare. I  made  my  way  back  to 
my  state-room,  and  entered  it 
with  an  effort.  The  whole  place 
smelled  of  stagnant  sea-water,  as 
it  had  when  I  had  waked  on  the 
previous  evening.  It  required  my 
utmost  strength  to  go  in  and 
grope  among  my  things  for  a  box 
of  wax  lights.  As  I  lighted  a 
railway  reading  lantern  which  I 


46  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 


always  carry  in  case  I  want  to 
read  after  the  lamps  are  out,  I 
perceived  that  the  porthole  was 
again  open,  and  a  sort  of  creeping 
horror  began  to  take  possession  of 
me  which  I  never  felt  before,  nor 
wish  to  feel  again.  But  I  got  a 
light  and  proceeded  to  examine 
the  upper  berth,  expecting  to  find 
it  drenched  with  sea-water. 

But  I  was  disappointed.  The 
bed  had  been  slept  in,  and  the 
smell  of  the  sea  was  strong  ;  but 
the  bedding  was  as  dry  as  a  bone. 
I  fancied  that  Robert  had  not  had 
the  courage  to  make  the  bed  after 
the  accident  of  the  previous  night 
— it  had  all  been  a  hideous  dream. 
I  drew  the  curtains  back  as  far  as 
I  could  and  examined  the  place 
very  carefully.  It  was  perfectly 
dry.  But  the  porthole  was  open 
again.  With  a  sort  of  dull  be- 


Gbe  THpper  3Bertb  47 

wilderment  of  horror,  I  closed  it 
and  screwed  it  down,  and  thrust- 
ing my  heavy  stick  through  the 
brass  loop,  wrenched  it  with  all 
my  might,  till  the  thick  metal 
began  to  bend  under  the  pressure. 
Then  I  hooked  my  reading  lantern 
into  the  red  velvet  at  the  head  of 
the  couch,  and  sat  down  to  re- 
cover my  senses  if  I  could.  I  sat 
there  all  night,  unable  to  think  of 
rest — hardly  able  to  think  at  all. 
But  the  porthole  remained  closed, 
and  I  did  not  believe  it  would 
now  open  again  without  the  appli- 
cation of  a  considerable  force. 

The  morning  dawned  at  last, 
and  I  dressed  myself  slowly, 
thinking  over  all  that  had  hap- 
pened in  the  night.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day  and  I  went  on  deck, 
glad  to  get  out  in  the  early,  pure 
sunshine,  and  to  smell  the  breeze 


48  £be  Tapper  JSertb 


from  the  blue  water,  so  different 
from  the  noisome,  stagnant  odour 
from  my  state-room.  Instinc- 
tively I  turned  aft,  towards  the 
surgeon's  cabin.  There  he  stood, 
with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  taking 
his  morning  airing  precisely  as  on 
the  preceding  day. 

"  Good -morning,"  said  he, 
quietly,  but  looking  at  me  with 
evident  curiosity. 

"  Doctor,  you  were  quite  right," 
said  I.  "  There  is  something 
wrong  about  that  place." 

"  I  thought  you  would  change 
your  mind,"  he  answered,  rather 
triumphantly.  "  You  have  had  a 
bad  night,  eh  ?  Shall  I  make  you 
a  pick-me-up  ?  I  have  a  capital 
recipe." 

"  No,  thanks,"  I  cried.  "  But 
I  would  like  to  tell  you  what 
happened." 


Tapper  JBertb  49 


I  then  tried  to  explain  as  clearly 
as  possible  precisely  what  had  oc- 
curred, not  omitting  to  state  that 
I  had  been  scared  as  I  had  never 
been  scared  in  my  whole  life  be- 
fore. I  dwelt  particularly  on  the 
phenomenon  of  the  porthole, 
which  was  a  fact  to  which  I  could 
testify,  even  if  the  rest  had  been 
an  illusion.  I  had  closed  it  twice 
in  the  night,  and  the  second  time 
I  had  actually  bent  the  brass  in 
wrenching  it  with  my  stick.  I  be- 
lieve I  insisted  a  good  deal  on  this 
point. 

"  You  seem  to  think  I  am  likely 
to  doubt  the  story,"  said  the 
doctor,  smiling  at  the  detailed 
account  of  the  state  of  the  port- 
hole. "  I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the 
least.  I  renew  my  invitation  to 
you.  Bring  your  traps  here,  and 
take  half  my  cabin." 

4 


50  Sbe  TUpper  JBcrtb 


"  Come  and  take  half  of  mine 
for  one  night,"  I  said.  "  Help 
me  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this 
thing." 

"  You  will  get  to  the  bottom 
of  something  else  if  you  try," 
answered  the  doctor. 

"  What  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  The  bottom  of  the  sea.  I  am 
going  to  leave  the  ship.  It  is  not 
canny." 

"  Then  you  will  not  help  me  to 
find  out — 

"  Not  I,"  said  the  doctor, 
quickly.  "  It  is  my  business  to 
keep  my  wits  about  me — not  to 
go  fiddling  about  with  ghosts  and 
things." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  it  is  a 
ghost  ?  "  I  inquired,  rather  con- 
temptuously. But  as  I  spoke  I 
remembered  very  well  the  horri- 
ble sensation  of  the  supernatural 


inpper  JSSertb  51 

which  had  got  possession  of  me 
during  the  night.  The  doctor 
turned  sharply  on  me — 

"  Have  you  any  reasonable  ex- 
planation of  these  things  to 
offer?"  he  asked.  "  No  ;  you 
have  not.  Well,  you  say  you  will 
find  an  explanation.  I  say  that 
you  won't,  sir,  simply  because 
there  is  not  any." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  I  retorted, 
"  do  you,  a  man  of  science,  mean 
to  tell  me  that  such  things  cannot 
be  explained  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  answered,  stoutly. 
"And,  if  they  could,  I  would  not 
be  concerned  in  the  explanation." 

I  did  not  care  to  spend  another 
night  alone  in  the  state-room,  and 
yet  I  was  obstinately  determined 
to  get  at  the  root  of  the  disturb- 
ances. I  do  not  believe  there  are 
many  men  who  would  have  slept 


52  Cbc  Tapper  JBertb 


there  alone,  after  passing  two  such 
nights.  But  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  try  it,  if  I  could  not  get  any 
one  to  share  a  watch  with  me. 
The  doctor  was  evidently  not  in- 
clined for  such  an  experiment. 
He  said  he  was  a  surgeon,  and  that 
in  case  any  accident  occurred  on 
board'he  must  always  be  in  readi- 
ness. He  could  not  afford  to  have 
his  nerves  unsettled.  Perhaps  he 
was  quite  right,  but  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  his  precaution  was 
prompted  by  his  inclination.  On 
inquiry,  he  informed  me  that  there 
was  no  one  on  board  who  would 
be  likely  to  join  me  in  my  investi- 
gations, and  after  a  little  more 
conversation  I  left  him.  A  little 
later  I  met  the  captain,  and  told 
him  my  story.  I  said  that  if  no  one 
would  spend  the  night  with  me  I 
would  ask  leave  to  have  the  light 


Tapper  ^Sertb  53 


burning  all  night,  and  would  try  it 
alone. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will 
share  your  watch  myself,  and  we 
will  see  what  happens.  It  is  my 
belief  that  we  can  find  out  between 
us.  There  may  be  some  fellow 
skulking  on  board,  who  steals  a 
passage  by  frightening  the  passen- 
gers. It  is  just  possible  that  there 
may  be  something  queer  in  the 
carpentering  of  that  berth." 

I  suggested  taking  the  ship's 
carpenter  below  and  examining 
the  place  ;  but  I  was  overjoyed  at 
the  captain's  offer  to  spend  the 
night  with  me.  He  accordingly 
sent  for  the  workman  and  ordered 
him  to  do  anything  I  required. 
We  went  below  at  once.  I  had 
all  the  bedding  cleared  out  of  the 
upper  berth,  and  we  examined  the 


54  £be  "dpper  ffiertb 

place  thoroughly  to  see  if  there 
was  a  board  loose  anywhere,  or  a 
panel  which  could  be  opened  or 
pushed  aside.  We  tried  the  planks 
everywhere,  tapped  the  flooring, 
unscrewed  the  fittings  of  the  lower 
berth  and  took  it  to  pieces — in 
short,  there  was  not  a  square  inch 
of  the  state-room  which  was  not 
searched  and  tested.  Everything 
was  in  perfect  order,  and  we  put 
everything  back  in  its  place.  As 
we  were  finishing  our  work,  Rob- 
ert came  to  the  door  and  looked 
in. 

"  Well,  sir — find  anything,  sir  ?  " 
he  asked  with  a  ghastly  grin. 

"  You  were  right  about  the  port- 
hole, Robert,"  I  said,  and  I  gave 
him  the  promised  sovereign.  The 
carpenter  did  his  work  silently  and 
skilfully,  following  my  directions. 
When  he  had  done  he  spoke. 


tipper  JBertb  55 


"  I  'm  a  plain  man,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  But  it  's  my  belief  you  had  bet- 
ter just  turn  out  your  things  and 
let  me  run  half  a  dozen  four  inch 
screws  through  the  door  of  this 
cabin.  There  's  no  good  never 
came  o'  this  cabin  yet,  sir,  and 
that  's  all  about  it.  There  's  been 
four  lives  lost  out  o'  here  to  my 
own  remembrance,  and  that  in  four 
trips.  Better  give  it  up,  sir  —  bet- 
ter give  it  up  !  " 

"  I  will  try  it  for  one  night 
more,"  I  said. 

"  Better  give  it  up,  sir  —  better 
give  it  up  !  It  's  a  precious  bad 
job,"  repeated  the  workman,  put- 
ting his  tools  in  his  bag  and  leav- 
ing the  cabin. 

But  my  spirits  had  risen  consid- 
erably at  the  prospect  of  having 
the  captain's  company,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  not  to  be  prevented 


56  Gbe  "flipper  JSertb 


from  going  to  the  end  of  the 
strange  business.  I  abstained 
from  Welsh  rare-bits  and  grog  that 
evening,  and  did  not  even  join  in 
the  customary  game  of  whist.  I 
wanted  to  be  quite  sure  of  my 
nerves,  and  my  vanity  made  me 
anxious  to  make  a  good  figure  in 
the  captain's  eyes. 


IV. 

THE  captain  was  one  of  those 
splendidly  tough  and  cheer- 
ful specimens  of  seafaring  human- 
ity whose  combined  courage,  hard- 
ihood, and  calmness  in  difficulty 
leads  them  naturally  into  high 
positions  of  trust.  He  was  not 
the  man  to  be  led  away  by  an 
idle  tale,  and  the  mere  fact  that 
he  was  willing  to  join  me  in  the 
investigation  was  proof  that  he 
thought  there  was  something  se- 
riously wrong,  which  could  not 
be  accounted  for  on  ordinary 
theories,  nor  laughed  down  as  a 
common  superstition.  To  some 
extent,  too,  his  reputation  was  at 
57 


58  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 

stake,  as  well  as  the  reputation  of 
the  ship.  It  is  no  light  thing  to 
lose  passengers  overboard,  and  he 
knew  it. 

About  ten  o'clock  that  evening, 
as  I  was  smoking  a  last  cigar,  he 
came  up  to  me  and  drew  me  aside 
from  the  beat  of  the  other  passen- 
gers who  were  patrolling  the  deck 
in  the  warm  darkness. 

"  This  is  a  serious  matter,  Mr. 
Brisbane,"  he  said.  "  We  must 
make  up  our  minds  either  way — 
to  be  disappointed  or  to  have  a 
pretty  rough  time  of  it.  You  see, 
I  cannot  afford  to  laugh  at  the 
affair,  and  I  will  ask  you  to  sign 
your  name  to  a  statement  of  what- 
ever occurs.  If  nothing  happens 
to-night  we  will  try  it  again  to- 
morrow and  next  dav.  Are  you 
ready  ?  " 

So  we  went  below,  and  entered 


Gbe  "dpper  JBcrtb  59 

the  state-room.  As  we  went  in  I 
could  see  Robert  the  steward,  who 
stood  a  little  further  down  the 
passage,  watching  us,  with  his 
usual  grin,  as  though  certain  that 
something  dreadful  was  about  to 
happen.  The  captain  closed  the 
door  behind  us  and  bolted  it. 

"  Supposing  we  put  your  port- 
manteau before  the  door,"  he 
suggested.  "  One  of  us  can  sit  on 
it.  Nothing  can  get  out  then.  Is 
the  port  screwed  down  ?  " 

I  found  it  as  I  had  left  it  in  the 
morning.  Indeed,  without  using 
a  lever,  as  I  had  done,  no  one 
could  have  opened  it.  I  drew  back 
the  curtains  of  the  upper  berth  so 
that  I  could  see  well  into  it.  By 
the  captain's  advice  I  lighted  my 
reading-lantern,  and  placed  it  so 
that  it  shone  upon  the  white  sheets 
above.  He  insisted  upon  sitting 


60  abe  "Upper  JBertb 


on  the  portmanteau,  declaring  that 
he  wished  to  be  able  to  swear  that 
he  had  sat  before  the  door. 

Then  he  requested  me  to  search 
the  state-room  thoroughly,  an  op- 
eration very  soon  accomplished,  as 
it  consisted  merely  in  looking  be- 
neath the  lower  berth  and  under 
the  couch  below  the  porthole. 
The  spaces  were  quite  empty. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  any  human 
being  to  get  in,"  I  said,  "  or  for 
any  human  being  to  open  the 
port." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain, 
calmly.  "If  we  see  anything  now, 
it  must  be  either  imagination  or 
something  supernatural." 

I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
lower  berth. 

"  The  first  time  it  happened," 
said  the  captain,  crossing  his  legs 
and  leaning  back  against  the  door, 


"Qlppcr  JBertb  61 


"  was  in  March.  The  passenger 
who  slept  here,  in  the  upper  berth, 
turned  out  to  have  been  a  lunatic 
—  at  all  events,  he  was  known  to 
have  been  a  little  touched,  and  he 
had  taken  his  passage  without  the 
knowledge  of  his  friends.  He 
rushed  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  threw  himself  over- 
board, before  the  officer  who  had 
the  watch  could  stop  him.  We 
stopped  and  lowered  a  boat  ;  it 
was  a  quiet  night,  just  before  that 
heavy  weather  came  on  ;  but  we 
could  not  find  him.  Of  course  his 
suicide  was  afterwards  accounted 
for  on  the  ground  of  his  insanity." 

"  I  suppose  that  often  hap- 
pens ?  "  I  remarked,  rather  ab- 
sently. 

"  Not  often  —  no,"  said  the  cap- 
tain ;."  never  before  in  my  expe- 
rience, though  I  have  heard  of  it 


62  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 

happening  on  board  of  other  ships. 
Well,  as  I  was  saying,  that  occurred 
in  March.  On  the  very  next  trip 
—What  are  you  looking  at  ?  " 
he  asked,  stopping  suddenly  in  his 
narration. 

I  believe  I  gave  no  answer.  My 
eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  port- 
hole. It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
brass  loop-nut  was  beginning  to 
turn  very  slowly  upon  the  screw — 
so  slowly,  however,  that  I  was  not 
sure  it  moved  at  all.  I  watched  it 
intently,  fixing  its  position  in  my 
mind,  and  trying  to  ascertain 
whether  it  changed.  Seeing  where 
I  was  looking,  the  captain  looked 
too. 

"  It  moves  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  conviction.  "  Xo,  it  does 
not,"  he  added,  after  a  minute. 

"  If  it  were  the  jarring  of  the 
screw,"  said  I,  "  it  would  have 


Cbe  Tapper  asertb  63 


opened  during  the  day ;  but  I 
found  it  this  evening  jammed  tight 
as  I  left  it  this  morning." 

I  rose  and  tried  the  nut.  It  was 
certainly  loosened,  for  by  an  effort 
I  could  move  it  with  my  hands. 

"  The  queer  thing,"  said  the  cap- 
tain? "  is  that  the  second  man  who 
was  lost  is  supposed  to  have  got 
through  that  very  port.  We  had 
a  terrible  time  over  it.  It  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  the 
weather  was  very  heavy ;  there 
was  an  alarm  that  one  of  the  ports 
was  open  and  the  sea  running  in. 
I  came  below  and  found  every- 
thing flooded,  the  water  pouring 
in  every  time  she  rolled,  and  the 
whole  port  swinging  from  the  top 
bolts — not  the  porthole  in  the 
middle.  Well,  we  managed  to 
shut  it,  but  the  water  did  some 
damage.  Ever  since  that  the 


64  £be  "Upper  JBertb 

place  smells  of  sea-water  from 
time  to  time.  We  supposed  the 
passenger  had  thrown  himself  out, 
though  the  Lord  only  knows  how 
he  did  it.  The  steward  kept  tell- 
ing me  that  he  could  not  keep  any- 
thing shut  here.  Upon  my  word 
—I  can  smell  it  now,  cannot 
you?"  he  inquired,  sniffing  the 
air  suspiciously. 

"  Yes — distinctly,"  I  said,  and  I 
shuddered  as  that  same  odour  of 
stagnant  sea-water  grew  stronger 
in  the  cabin.  "  Now,  to  smell 
like  this,  the  place  must  be  damp," 
I  continued,  "  and  yet  when  I  ex- 
amined it  with  the  carpenter  this 
morning  everything  was  perfectly 
dry.  It  is  most  extraordinary  — 
hallo  !  " 

My  reading-lantern,  which  had 
been  placed  in  the  upper  berth, 
was  suddenly  extinguished.  There 


Tapper  JBertb  65 


was  still  a  good  deal  of  light  from 
the  pane  of  ground  glass  near  the 
door,  behind  which  loomed  the 
regulation  lamp.  The  ship  rolled 
heavily,  and  the  curtain  of  the 
upper  berth  swung  far  out  into 
the  state-room  and  back  again.  I 
rose  quickly  from  my  seat  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  and  the  captain 
at  the  same  moment  started  to  his 
feet  with  a  loud  cry  of  surprise.  I 
had  turned  with  the  intention  of 
taking  down  the  lantern  to  ex- 
amine it,  when  I  heard  his  excla- 
mation, and  immediately  after- 
wards his  call  for  help.  I  sprang 
towards  him.  He  was  wrestling 
with  all  his  might,  with  the  brass 
loop  of  the  port.  It  seemed  to 
turn  against  his  hands  in  spite  of 
all  his  efforts.  I  caught  up  my 
cane,  a  heavy  oak  stick  I  always 
used  to  carry,  and  thrust  it  through 

5 


66  cbe  tapper  36ertb 


the  ring  and  bore  on  it  with  all 
my  strength.  But  the  strong 
wood  snapped  suddenly,  and  I  fell 
upon  the  couch.  When  I  rose 
again  the  port  was  wide  open,  and 
the  captain  was  standing  with  his 
back  against  the  door,  pale  to  the 
lips. 

"  There  is  something  in  that 
berth ! "  he  cried,  in  a  strange 
voice,  his  eyes  almost  starting 
from  his  head.  "  Hold  the  door, 
while  I  look— it  shall  not  escape 
us,  whatever  it  is  !  " 

But  instead  of  taking  his  place, 
I  sprang  upon  the  lower  bed,  and 
seized  something  which  lay  in  the 
upper  berth. 

It  was  something  ghostly,  horri- 
ble beyond  words,  and  it  moved 
in  my  grip.  It  was  like  the  body 
of  a  man  long  drowned,  and  yet  it 
moved,  and  had  the  strength  of 


Gbe  Tapper  3Bertb  67 

ten  men  living ;  but  I  gripped  it 
with  all  my  might — the  slippery, 
oozy,  horrible  thing.  The  dead 
white  eyes  seemed  to  stare  at  me 
out  of  the  dusk  ;  the  putrid  odour 
of  rank  sea-water  was  about  it,  and 
its  shiny  hair  hung  in  foul  wet 
curls  over  its  dead  face.  I  wrestled 
with  the'  dead  thing;  it  thrust  it- 
self upon  me  and  forced  me  back 
and  nearly  broke  my  arms ;  it 
wound  its  corpse's  arms  about  my 
neck,  the  living  death,  and  over- 
powered me,  so  that  I,  at  last, 
cried  aloud  and  fell,  and  left  my 
hold. 

As  I  fell  the  thing  sprang  across 
me,  and  seemed  to  throw  itself 
upon  the  captain.  When  I  last 
saw  him  on  his  feet  his  face  was 
white  and  his  lips  set.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  he  struck  a  violent  blow 
at  the  dead  being,  and  then  he, 


63  Cbe  tipper  JScrtb 

too,  fell  forward  upon  his  face, 
with  an  inarticulate  cry  of  horror. 

The  thing  paused  an  instant, 
seeming  to  hover  over  his  pros- 
trate body,  and  I  could  have 
screamed  again  for  very  fright, 
but  I  had  no  voice  left.  The  thing 
vanished  suddenly,  and  it  seemed 
to  my  disturbed  senses  that  it 
made  its  exit  through  the  open 
port,  though  how  that  was  possi- 
ble, considering  the  smallness  of 
the  aperture,  is  more  than  any  one 
can  tell.  I  lay  a  long  time  upon 
the  floor,  and  the  captain  lay  be- 
side me.  At  last  I  partially  re- 
covered my  senses  and  moved, 
and  I  instantly  knew  that  my  arm 
was  broken — the  small  bone  of  the 
left  forearm  near  the  wrist. 

I  got  upon  my  feet  somehow, 
and  with  my  remaining  hand  I 
tried  to  raise  the  captain.  He 


Cbe  Tapper  JSertb  69 

groaned  and  moved,  and  at  last 
came  to  himself.  He  was  not  hurt, 
but  he  seemed  badly  stunned. 

Well,  do  you  want  to  hear  any 
more?  There  is  nothing  more. 
That  is  the  end  of  my  story.  The 
carpenter  carried  out  his  scheme 
of  running  half  a  dozen  four-inch 
screws  through  the  door  of  one 
hundred  and  five  ;  and  if  ever  you 
take  a  passage  in  the  Kamtschatka, 
you  may  ask  for  a  berth  in  that 
state-room.  You  will  be  told  that 
it  is  engaged — yes — it  is  engaged 
by  that  dead  thing. 

I  finished  the  trip  in  the  sur- 
geon's cabin.  He  doctored  my 
broken  arm,  and  advised  me  not 
to  "  fiddle  about  with  ghosts  and 
things "  any  more.  The  captain 
was  very  silent,  and  never  sailed 
again  in  that  ship,  though  it  is 


70  Cbe  Tapper  JBertb 

still  running.  And  I  will  not  sail 
in  her  either.  It  was  a  very  dis- 
agreeable experience,  and  I  was 
very  badly  frightened,  which  is  a 
thing  I  do  not  like.  That  is  all. 
That  is  how  I  saw  a  ghost — if  it 
was  a  ghost.  It  was  dead,  any- 
how. 


BY  THE  WATERS  OF 
PARADISE 


By  the  Waters  of 
Paradise. 

{REMEMBER  my  childhood 
very  distinctly.  I  do  not 
think  that  the  fact  argues  a  good 
memory,  for  I  have  never  been 
clever  at  learning  words  by  heart, 
in  prose  or  rhyme  ;  so  that  I  be- 
lieve my  remembrance  of  events 
depends  much  more  upon  the 
events  themselves  than  upon  my 
possessing  any  special  facility  for 
recalling  them.  Perhaps  I  am  too 
imaginative,  and  the  earliest  im- 
pressions I  received  were  of  a  kind 
to  stimulate  the  imagination  ab- 
normally. A  long  series  of  little 
73 


74    J6g  tbe  "CQatcrs  of 


misfortunes,  connected  with  each 
other  as  to  suggest  a  sort  of  weird 
fatality,  so  worked  upon  my  mel- 
ancholy temperament  when  I  was 
a  boy  that,  before  I  was  of  age,  I 
sincerely  believed  myself  to  be 
under  a  curse,  and  not  only  my- 
self, but  my  whole  family,  and 
every  individual  who  bore  my 
name. 

I  was  born  in  the  old  place 
where  my  father,  and  his  father, 
and  all  his  predecessors  had  been 
born,  beyond  the  memory  of  man. 
It  is  a  very  old  house,  and  the 
greater  part  of  it  was  originally  a 
castle,  strongly  fortified,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  deep  moat  supplied 
with  abundant  water  from  the 
hills  by  a  hidden  aqueduct.  Many 
of  the  fortifications  have  been  de- 
stroyed, and  the  moat  has  been 
filled  up.  The  water  from  the 


tbe  TRflaters  of  paradise    75 


aqueduct  supplies  great  fountains, 
and  runs  down  into  huge  oblong 
basins  in  the  terraced  gardens,  one 
below  the  other,  each  surrounded 
by  a  broad  pavement  of  marble 
between  the  water  and  the  flower- 
beds. The  waste  surplus  finally 
escapes  through  an  artificial  grotto, 
some  thirty  yards  long,  into  a 
stream,  flowing  down  through  the 
park  to  the  meadows  beyond,  and 
thence  to  the  distant  river.  The 
buildings  were  extended  a  little 
and  greatly  altered  more  than  two 
hundred  years  ago,  in  the  time  of 
Charles  II.,  but  since  then  little 
has  been  done  to  improve  them, 
though  they  have  been  kept  in 
fairly  good  repair,  according  to 
our  fortunes. 

In  the  gardens  there  are  terraces 
and  huge  hedges  of  box  and  ever- 
green, some  of  which  used  to  be 


76    JSg  tbe  Idaters  of  para&ise 

clipped  into  shapes  of  animals,  in 
the  Italian  style.  I  can  remem- 
ber when  I  was  a  lad  how  I  used 
to  try  to  make  out  what  the  trees 
were  cut  to  represent,  and  how  I 
used  to  appeal  for  explanations  to 
Judith,  my  Welsh  nurse.  She 
dealt  in  a  strange  mythology  of 
her  own,  and  peopled  the  gardens 
with  griffins,  dragons,  good  genii 
and  bad,  and  filled  my  mind  with 
them  at  the  same  time.  My  nur- 
sery window  afforded  a  view  of 
the  great  fountains  at  the  head  of 
the  upper  basin,  and  on  moonlight 
nights  the  Welshwoman  would 
hold  me  up  to  the  glass  and  bid 
me  look  at  the  mist  and  spray 
rising  into  mysterious  shapes,  mov- 
ing mystically  in  the  white  light 
like  living  things. 

"  It  'sthe  Woman  of  the  Water," 
she  used   to   say ;  and   sometimes 


308  tbe  Waters  of  ipara&ise    77 

she  would  threaten  that  if  I  did 
not  go  to  sleep  the  Woman  of  the 
Water  would  steal  up  to  the  high 
window  and  carry  me  away  in  her 
wet  arms. 

The  place  was  gloomy.  The 
broad  basins  of  water  and  the  tall 
evergreen  hedges  gave  it  a  funereal 
look,  and  the  damp-stained  marble 
causeways  by  the  pools  might  have 
been  made  of  tombstones.  The 
gray  and  weather-beaten  walls  and 
towers  without,  the  dark  and  mas- 
sively-furnished rooms  within,  the 
deep,  mysterious  recesses  and  the 
heavy  curtains,  all  affected  my 
spirits.  I  was  silent  and  sad  from 
my  childhood.  There  was  a  great 
clock  tower  above,  from  which  the 
hours  rang  dismally  during  the  day, 
and  tolled  like  a  knell  in  the  dead 
of  night.  There  was  no  light  nor 
life  in  the  house,  for  my  mother 


?s    JSg  tbe  TRUaters  of 


was  a  helpless  invalid,  and  my 
father  had  grown  melancholy  in 
his  long  task  of  caring  for  her.  He 
was  a  thin,  dark  man,  with  sad 
eyes;  kind,  I  think,  but  silent  and 
unhappy.  Next  to  my  mother,  I 
believe  he  loved  me  better  than 
anything  on  earth,  for  he  took  im- 
mense pains  and  trouble  in  teach- 
ing me,  and  what  he  taught  me  I 
have  never  forgotten.  Perhaps  it 
was  his  only  amusement,  and  that 
may  be  the  reason  why  I  had  no 
nursery  governess  or  teacher  of 
any  kind  while  he  lived. 

I  used  to  be  taken  to  see  my 
mother  every  day,  and  sometimes 
twice  a  day,  for  an  hour  at  a 
time.  Then  I  sat  upon  a  little 
stool  near  her  feet,  and  she  would 
ask  me  what  I  had  been  doing, 
and  what  I  wanted  to  do.  I  dare- 
say she  saw  already  the  seeds  of  a 


tbe  Idaters  of  iparafcise    79 


profound  melancholy  in  my  na- 
ture, for  she  looked  at  me  always 
with  a  sad  smile,  and  kissed  me 
with  a  sigh  when  I  was  taken  away. 

One  night,  when  I  was  just  six 
years  old,  I  lay  awake  in  the  nur- 
sery. The  door  was  not  quite 
shut,  and  the  Welsh  nurse  was 
sitting  sewing  in  the  next  room. 
Suddenly  I  heard  her  groan,  and 
say  in  a  strange  voice,  "  One — two 
— one — two  !  "  I  was  frightened, 
and  I  jumped  up  and  ran  to  the 
door,  barefooted  as  I  was. 

"  What  is  it,  Judith  ?  "  I  cried, 
clinging  to  her  skirts.  I  can  re- 
member the  look  in  her  strange 
dark  eyes  as  she  answered. 

"  One — two  leaden  coffins,  fallen 
from  the  ceiling !  "  she  crooned, 
working  herself  in  her  chair. 
"  One — two — a  light  coffin  and  a 
heavy  coffin,  falling  to  the  floor!" 


8o    JBg  tbc  Waters  of  parafctee 


Then  she  seemed  to  notice  me, 
and  she  took  me  back  to  bed  and 
sang  me  to  sleep  with  a  queer  old 
Welsh  song. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  was,  but 
the  impression  got  hold  of  me 
that  she  had  meant  that  my  father 
and  mother  were  going  to  die 
very  soon.  They  died  in  the  very 
room  where  she  had  been  sitting 
that  night.  It  was  a  great  room, 
my  day  nursery,  full  of  sun  when 
there  was  any :  and  when  the  days 
were  dark  it  was  the  most  cheerful 
place  in  the  house.  My  mother 
grew  rapidly  worse,  and  I  was 
transferred  to  another  part  of  the 
building  to  make  place  for  her. 
They  thought  my  nursery  was 
gayer  for  her,  I  suppose  ;  but  she 
could  not  live.  She  was  beautiful 
when  she  was  dead,  and  I  cried 
bitterly. 


JSg  tbe  TKflaters  of  iparaOfse    81 

"  The  light  one,  the  light  one — 
the  heavy  one  to  come,"  crooned 
the  Welshwoman.  And  she  was 
right.  My  father  took  the  room 
after  my  mother  was  gone,  and 
day  by  day  he  grew  thinner  and 
paler  and  sadder. 

"  The  heavy  one,  the  heavy  one 
— all  of  lead,"  moaned  my  nurse, 
one  night  in  December,  standing 
still,  just  as  she  was  going  to  take 
away  the  light  after  putting  me  to 
bed.  Then  she  took  me  up  again 
and  wrapped  me  in  a  little  gown, 
and  led  me  away  to  my  father's 
room.  She  knocked,  but  no  one 
answered.  She  opened  the  door, 
and  we  found  him  in  his  easy- 
chair  before  the  fire,  very  white, 
quite  dead. 

So  I  was  alone  with  the  Welsh- 
woman till  strange  people  came, 
and  relations  whom  I  had  never 


82    3Bg  tbe  TJQaters  of  paraMse 


seen  ;  and  then  I  heard  them 
saying  that  I  must  be  taken  away 
to  some  more  cheerful  place. 
They  were  kind  people,  and  I  will 
not  believe  that  they  were  kind 
only  because  I  was  to  be  very  rich 
when  I  grew  to  be  a  man.  The 
world  never  seemed  to  be  a  very 
bad  place  to  me,  nor  all  the  people 
to  be  miserable  sinners,  even  when 
I  was  most  melancholy.  I  do  not 
remember  that  any  one  ever  did 
me  any  great  injustice,  nor  that  I 
was  ever  oppressed  or  ill-treated 
in  any  way,  even  by  the  boys  at 
school.  I  was  sad,  I  suppose, 
because  my  childhood  was  so 
gloomy,  and,  later,  because  I  was 
unlucky  in  everything  I  under- 
took, till  I  finally  believed  I  was 
pursued  by  fate,  and  I  used  to 
dream  that  the  old  Welsh  nurse 
and  the  Woman  of  the  Water  be- 


tbe  Waters  of  iparaDfse    83 


tween  them  had  vowed  to  pursue 
me  to  my  end.  But  my  natural 
disposition  should  have  been 
cheerful,  as  I  have  often  thought. 
Among  lads  of  my  age  I  was 
never  last,  or  even  among  the  last, 
in  anything ;  but  I  was  never  first. 
If  I  trained  for  a  race,  I  was  sure 
to  sprain  my  ankle  on  the  day 
when  I  was  to  run.  If  I  pulled  an 
oar  with  others,  my  oar  was  sure 
to  break.  If  I  competed  for  a 
prize,  some  unforeseen  accident 
prevented  my  winning  it  at  the  last 
moment.  Nothing  to  which  I  put 
my  hand  succeeded,  and  I  got  the 
reputation  of  being  unlucky,  until 
my  companions  felt  it  was  always 
safe  to  bet  against  me,  no  matter 
what  the  appearances  might  be. 
I  became  discouraged  and  listless 
in  everything.  I  gave  up  the  idea 
of  competing  for  any  distinction 


84    JBg  tbe  TSnaters  of  paraDtse 


at  the  University,  comforting  my- 
self with  the  thought  that  I  could 
not  fail  in  the  examination  for  the 
ordinary  degree.  The  day  before 
the  examination  began  I  fell  ill  ; 
and  when  at  last  I  recovered,  after 
a  narrow  escape  from  death,  I 
turned  my  back  upon  Oxford,  and 
went  down  alone  to  visit  the  old 
place  where  I  had  been  born, 
feeble  in  health  and  profoundly 
disgusted  and  discouraged.  I  was 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  master 
of  myself  and  of  my  fortune  ;  but 
so  deeply  had  the  long  chain  of 
small  unlucky  circumstances  af- 
fected me  that  I  thought  seriously 
of  shutting  myself  up  from  the 
world  to  live  the  life  of  a  hermit, 
and  to  die  as  soon  as  possible. 
Death  seemed  the  only  cheerful 
possibility  in  my  existence,  and 


38g  tbe  Waters  of  paradise    85 

my  thoughts  soon  dwelt  upon  it 
altogether. 

I  had  never  shown  any  wish  to 
return  to  my  own  home  since  I 
had  been  taken  away  as  a  little 
boy,  and  no  one  had  ever  pressed 
me  to  do  so.  The  place  had  been 
kept  in  order  after  a  fashion,  and 
did  not  seem  to  have  suffered 
during  the  fifteen  years  or  more 
of  my  absence.  Nothing  earthly 
could  affect  those  old  grey  walls 
that  had  fought  the  elements  for 
so  many  centuries.  The  garden 
was  more  wild  than  I  remembered 
it ;  the  marble  causeways  about 
the  pools  looked  more  yellow  and 
damp  than  of  old,  and  the  whole 
place  at  first  looked  smaller.  It 
was  not  until  I  had  wandered 
about  the  house  and  grounds  for 
many  hours  that  I  realised  the 


86    JBs  tbe  Maters  of  paradise 


huge  size  of  the  home  where  I  was 
to  live  in  solitude.  Then  I  began 
to.  delight  in  it,  and  my  resolution 
to  live  alone  grew  stronger. 

The  people  had  turned  out  to 
welcome  me,  of  course,  and  I  tried 
to  recognise  the  changed  faces  of 
the  old  gardener  and  the  old 
housekeeper,  and  to  call  them  by 
name.  My  old  nurse  I  knew  at 
once.  She  had  grown  very  grey 
since  she  heard  the  coffins  fall 
in  the  nursery  fifteen  years  be- 
fore, but  her  strange  eyes  were  the 
same,  and  the  look  in  them  woke 
all  my  old  memories.  She  went 
over  the  house  with  me. 

"  And  how  is  the  Woman  of  the 
Water?"  I  asked,  trying  to  laugh 
a  little.  "  Does  she  still  play  in 
the  moonlight  ?  " 

"  She  is  hungry,"  answered  the 
Welshwoman,  in  a  low  voice. 


3B£  tbe  TKHaters  of  Paradise    87 

"  Hungry  ?  Then  we  will  feed 
her."  I  laughed.  But  old  Judith 
turned  very  pale,  and  looked  at 
me  strangely. 

"  Feed  her  ?  Ay — you  will  feed 
her  well,"  she  muttered,  glancing 
behind  her  at  the  ancient  house- 
keeper, who  tottered  after  us  with 
feeble  steps  through  the  halls  and 
passages. 

I  did  not  think  much  of  her 
words.  She  had  always  talked 
oddly,  as  Welshwomen  will,  and 
though  I  was  very  melancholy 
I  am  sure  I  was  not  supersti- 
tious, and  I  was  certainly  not 
timid.  Only,  as  in  a  far-off  dream, 
I  seemed  to  see  her  standing  with 
the  light  in  her  hand  and  mutter- 
ing, "  The  heavy  one — all  of  lead," 
and  then  leading  a  little  boy 
through  the  long  corridors  to  see 
his  father  lying  dead  in  a  great 


tbc  "Cdaters  of  fcara&tse 


easy-chair  before  a  smouldering 
fire.  So  we  went  over  the  house, 
and  I  chose  the  rooms  where  I 
would  live ;  and  the  servants  I 
had  brought  with  me  ordered  and 
arranged  everything,  and  I  had  no 
more  trouble.  I  did  not  care  what 
they  did  provided  I  was  left  in 
peace,  and  was  not  expected  to 
give  directions ;  for  I  was  more 
listless  than  ever,  owing  to  the  ef- 
fects of  my  illness  at  college. 

I  dined  in  solitary  state,  and 
the  melancholy  grandeur  of  the 
vast  old  dining-room  pleased  me. 
Then  I  went  to  the  room  I  had 
selected  for  my  study,  and  sat 
down  in  a  deep  chair,  under  a 
bright  light,  to  think,  or  to  let  my 
thoughts  meander  through  laby- 
rinths of  their  own  choosing,  ut- 
terly indifferent  to  the  course  they 
might  take. 


tbe  Waters  of  paraOtse    89 


The  tall  windows  of  the  room 
opened  to  the  level  of  the  ground 
upon  the  terrace  at  the  head  of 
the  garden.  It  was  in  the  end  of 
July,  and  everything  was  open,  for 
the  weather  was  warm.  As  I  sat 
alone  I  heard  the  unceasing  plash 
of  the  great  fountains,  and  I  fell 
to  thinking  of  the  Woman  of  the 
Water.  I  rose,  and  went  out  into 
the  still  night,  and  sat  down  upon 
a  seat  on  the  terrace,  between  two 
gigantic  Italian  flower-pots.  The 
air  was  deliciously  soft  and  sweet 
with  the  smell  of  the  flowers,  and 
the  garden  was  more  congenial  to 
me  than  the  house.  Sad  people  al- 
ways like  running  water  and  the 
sound  of  it  at  night,  though  I  can- 
not tell  why.  I  sat  and  listened 
in  the  gloom,  for  it  was  dark  be- 
low, and  the  pale  moon  had  not 
yet  climbed  over  the  hills  in  front 


go    JBs  tbe  TSnaters  of  paraDise 

of  me,  though  all  the  air  above  was 
light  with  her  rising  beams.  Slowly 
the  white  halo  in  the  eastern  sky 
ascended  in  an  arch  above  the 
wooded  crests,  making  the  outlines 
of  the  mountains  more  intensely 
black  by  contrast,  as  though  the 
head  of  some  great  white  saint  were 
rising  from  behind  a  screen  in  a  vast 
cathedral,  throwing  misty  glories 
from  below.  I  longed  to  see  the 
moon  herself,  and  I  tried  to  reckon 
the  seconds  before  she  must  ap- 
pear. Then  she  sprang  up  quickly, 
and  in  a  moment  more  hung  round 
and  perfect  in  the  sky.  I  gazed  at 
her,  and  then  at  the  floating  spray 
of  the  tall  fountains,  and  down 
at  the  pools,  where  the  water- 
lilies  were  rocking  softly  in  their 
sleep  on  the  velvet  surface  of 
the  moon-lit  water.  Just  then  a 
great  swan  floated  out  silently 


JBg  tbe  Maters  of  paradise    91 

into  the  midst  of  the  basin,  and 
wreathed  his  long  neck,  catching 
the  water  in  his  broad  bill,  and 
scattering  showers  of  diamonds 
around  him. 

Suddenly,  as  I  gazed,  something 
came  between  me  and  the  light.  I 
looked  up  instantly.  Between  me 
and  the  round  disk  of  the  moon 
rose  a  luminous  face  of  a  woman, 
with  great  strange  eyes,  and  a  wo- 
man's mouth,  full  and  soft,  but  not 
smiling,  hooded  in  black,  staring  at 
me  as  I  sat  still  upon  my  bench. 
She  was  close  to  me — so  close  that 
I  could  have  touched  her  with  my 
hand.  But  I  was  transfixed  and 
helpless.  She  stood  still  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  her  expression  did  not 
change.  Then  she  passed  swiftly 
away,  and  my  hair  stood  up  on 
my  head,  while  the  cold  breeze 
from  her  white  dress  was  wafted 


92    JSg  tbe  IWlaters  of  f>araJMse 

to  my  temples  as  she  moved.  The 
moonlight,  shining  through  the 
tossing  spray  of  the  fountain, 
made  traceries  of  shadow  on  the 
gleaming  folds  of  her  garments. 
In  an  instant  she  was  gone  and  I 
was  alone. 

I  was  strangely  shaken  by  the 
vision,  and  some  time  passed  be- 
fore I  could  rise  to  my  feet,  for  I 
was  still  weak  from  my  illness,  and 
the  sight  I  had  seen  would  have 
startled  any  one.  I  did  not  reason 
with  myself,  for  I  was  certain  that 
I  had  looked  on  the  unearthly, 
and  no  argument  could  have  de- 
stroyed that  belief.  At  last  I  got 
up  and  stood  unsteadily,  gazing  in 
the  direction  in  which  I  thought 
the  face  had  gone  ;  but  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen — nothing  but 
the  broad  paths,  the  tall,  dark  ever- 
green hedges,  the  tossing  water  of 


tbe  Maters  of  paraDfse    93 


the  fountains  and  the  smooth  pool 
below.  I  fell  back  upon  the  seat 
and  recalled  the  face  I  had  seen. 
Strange  to  say,  now  that  the  first 
impression  had  passed,  there  was 
nothing  startling  in  the  recollec- 
tion ;  on  the  contrary,  I  felt  that 
I  was  fascinated  by  the  face,  and 
would  give  anything  to  see  it 
again.  I  could  retrace  the  beauti- 
ful straight  features,  the  long  dark 
eyes,  and  the  wonderful  mouth 
most  exactly  in  my  mind,  and  when 
I  had  reconstructed  every  detail 
from  memory  I  knew  that  the 
whole  was  beautiful,  and  that  I 
should  love  a  woman  with  such  a 
face. 

"  I  wonder  whether  she  is  the 
Woman  of  the  Water !  "  I  said  to 
myself.  Then  rising  once  more,  I 
wandered  down  the  garden,  de- 
scending one  short  flight  of  steps 


94    3Bg  tbc  Waters  of  paraDtse 

after  another,  from  terrace  to  ter- 
race by  the  edge  of  the  marble 
basins,  through  the  shadow  and 
through  the  moonlight  ;  and  I 
crossed  the  water  by  the  rustic 
bridge  above  the  artificial  grotto, 
and  climbed  slowly  up  again  to 
the  highest  terrace  by  the  other 
side.  The  air  seemed  sweeter, 
and  I  was  very  calm,  so  that  I 
think  I  smiled  to  myself  as  I 
walked,  as  though  a  new  happiness 
had  come  to  me.  The  \voman's 
face  seemed  always  before  me,  and 
the  thought  of  it  gave  me  an  un- 
wonted thrill  of  pleasure,  unlike 
anything  I  had  ever  felt  before. 

I  turned,  as  I  reached  the  house, 
and  looked  back  upon  the  scene. 
It  had  certainly  changed  in  the 
short  hour  since  1  had  come  out, 
and  my  mood  had  changed  with  it. 
Just  like  my  luck,  I  thought,  to 


JBg  tbe  Idaters  of  para&tse    95 

fall  in  love  with  a  ghost !  But  in 
old  times  I  would  have  sighed,  and 
gone  to  bed  more  sad  than  ever, 
at  such  a  melancholy  conclusion. 
To-night  I  felt  happy,  almost  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life.  The 
gloomy  old  study  seemed  cheerful 
when  I  went  in.  The  old  pictures 
on  the  walls  smiled  at  me,  and  I 
sat  down  in  my  deep  chair  with  a 
new  and  delightful  sensation  that 
I  was  not  alone.  The  idea  of  hav- 
ing seen  a  ghost,  and  of  feeling 
much  the  better  for  it,  was  so 
absurd  that  I  laughed  softly,  as 
I  took  up  one  of  the  books  I  had 
brought  with  me  and  began  to 
read. 

That  impression  did  not  wear 
off.  I  slept  peacefully,  and  in  the 
morning  I  threw  open  my  windows 
to  the  summer  air  and  looked  down 
at  the  garden,  at  the  stretches  of 


96    JBg  tbe  "CQatcrs  of  parafcise 


green  and  at  the  coloured  flower- 
beds, at  the  circling  swallows  and 
at  the  bright  water. 

"  A  man  might  make  a  paradise 
of  this  place,"  I  exclaimed.  "  A 
man  and  a  woman  together  !  " 

From  that  day  the  old  castle  no 
longer  seemed  gloomy,  and  I  think 
I  ceased  to  be  sad  ;  for  some  time, 
too,  I  began  to  take  an  interest  in 
the  place,  and  to  try  and  make  it 
more  alive.  I  avoided  my  old 
Welsh  nurse,  lest  she  should  damp 
my  humour  with  some  dismal 
prophecy,  and  recall  my  old  self 
by  bringing  back  memories  of  my 
dismal  childhood.  But  what  I 
thought  of  most  was  the  ghostly 
figure  I  had  seen  in  the  garden 
that  first  night  after  my  arrival.  I 
went  out  every  evening  and  wan- 
dered through  the  walks  and  paths ; 
but,  try  as  I  might,  I  did  not  see 


3SSg  tbe  TKflatcrB  of  fcaraDise    97 

my  vision  again.  At  last,  after 
many  days,  the  memory  grew  more 
faint,  and  my  old  moody  nature 
gradually  overcame  the  temporary 
sense  of  lightness  I  had  experi- 
enced. The  summer  turned  to 
autumn,  and  I  grew  restless.  It 
began  to  rain.  The  dampness  per- 
vaded the  gardens,  and  the  outer 
halls  smelled  musty,  like  tombs  ; 
the  grey  sky  oppressed  me  intoler- 
ably. I  left  the  place  as  it  was 
and  went  abroad,  determined  to 
try  anything  which  might  possibly 
make  a  second  break  in  the  mo- 
notonous melancholy  from  which 
I  suffered. 


II. 

MOST  people  would  be  struck 
by  the  utter  insignificance 
of  the  small  events  which,  after 
the  death  of  my  parents,  influenced 
my  life  and  made  me  unhappy. 
The  gruesome  forebodings  of  a 
Welsh  nurse,  which  chanced  to  be 
realised  by  an  odd  coincidence  of 
events,  should  not  seem  enough 
to  change  the  nature  of  a  child, 
and  to  direct  the  bent  of  his  char- 
acter in  after  years.  The  little 
disappointments  of  schoolboy  life, 
and  the  somewhat  less  childish 
ones  of  an  uneventful  and  undis- 
tinguished academic  career,  should 
not  have  sufficed  to  turn  me  out 


3BB  tbe  TKBaters  of  paraOtsc    99 

at  one-and-twenty  years  of  age  a 
melancholic,  listless  idler.  Some 
weakness  of  my  own  character 
may  have  contributed  to  the  re- 
sult, but  in  a  greater  degree  it  was 
due  to  my  having  a  reputation  for 
bad  luck.  However,  I  will  not 
try  to  analyse  the  causes  of  my 
state,  for  I  should  satisfy  nobody, 
least  of  all  myself.  Still  less  will 
I  attempt  to  explain  why  I  felt  a 
temporary  revival  of  my  spirits 
after  my  adventure  in  the  garden. 
It  is  certain  that  I  was  in  love 
with  the  face  I  had  seen,  and  that 
I  longed  to  see  it  again ;  that  I 
gave  up  all  hope  of  a  second  visi- 
tation, grew  more  sad  than  ever, 
packed  up  my  traps,  and  finally 
went  abroad.  But  in  my  dreams 
I  went  back  to  my  home,  and  it 
always  appeared  to  me  sunny  and 
bright,  as  it  had  looked  on  that 


tbe  Waters  of  para&ise 


summer's  morning  after  I  had 
seen  the  woman  by  the  fountain. 
I  went  to  Paris.  I  went  further, 
and  wandered  about  Germany.  I 
tried  to  amuse  myself,  and  I  failed 
miserably.  With  the  aimless 
whims  of  an  idle  and  useless  man, 
come  all  sorts  of  suggestions  for 
good  resolutions.  One  day  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  go 
and  bury  myself  in  a  German  uni- 
versity for  a  time,  and  live  simply 
like  a  poor  student.  I  started 
with  the  intention  of  going  to 
Leipsic,  determined  to  stay  there 
until  some  event  should  direct 
my  life  or  change  my  humour,  or 
make  an  end  of  me  altogether. 
The  express  train  stopped  at  some 
station  of  which  I  did  not  know 
the  name.  It  was  dusk  on  a 
winter's  afternoon,  and  I  peered 
through  the  thick  glass  from  my 


tbe  Idaters  of  paraDtse    101 


seat.  Suddenly  another  train 
came  gliding  in  from  the  opposite 
direction,  and  stopped  alongside 
of  ours.  I  looked  at  the  carriage 
which  chanced  to  be  abreast  of 
mine,  and  idly  read  the  black 
letters  painted  on  a  white  board 
swinging  from  the  brass  handrail: 
BERLIN  —  COLOGNE  —  PARIS. 
Then  I  looked  up  at  the  window 
above.  I  started  violently,  and 
the  cold  perspiration  broke  out 
upon  my  forehead.  In  the  dim 
light,  not  six  feet  from  where  I 
sat,  I  saw  the  face  of  a  woman, 
the  face  I  loved,  the  straight,  fine 
features,  the  strange  eyes,  the 
wonderful  mouth,  the  pale  skin. 
Her  head-dress  was  a  dark  veil, 
which  seemed  to  be  tied  about 
her  head  and  passed  over  the 
shoulders  under  her  chin.  As  I 
threw  down  the  window  and  knelt 


102   JSP  tbe  "Odaters  of  paradise 

on  the  cushioned  seat,  leaning  far 
out  to  get  a  better  view,  a  long 
whistle  screamed  through  the  sta- 
tion, followed  by  a  quick  series  of 
dull,  clanking  sounds ;  then  there 
was  a  slight  jerk,  and  my  train 
moved  on.  Luckily  the  window 
was  narrow,  being  the  one  over 
the  seat,  beside  the  door,  or  I 
believe  I  would  have  jumped  out 
of  it  then  and  there.  In  an  in- 
stant the  speed  increased,  and  I 
was  being  carried  swiftly  away  in 
the  opposite  direction  from  the 
thing  I  loved. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  lay 
back  in  my  place,  stunned  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  apparition.  At 
last  one  of  the  two  other  passen- 
gers, a  large  and  gorgeous  captain 
of  the  White  Konigsberg  Cuiras- 
siers, civilly  but  firmly  sug- 
gested that  I  might  shut  my 


the  TKnatere  of  paraDise    103 


window,  as  the  evening  was  cold. 
I  did  so,  with  an  apology,  and 
relapsed  into  silence.  The  train 
ran  swiftly  on,  for  a  long  time,  and 
it  was  already  beginning  to  slacken 
speed  before  entering  another 
station,  when  I  roused  myself  and 
made  a  sudden  resolution.  As  the 
carriage  stopped  before  the  bril- 
liantly lighted  platform,  I  seized 
my  belongings,  saluted  my  fellow- 
passengers,  and  got  out,  deter- 
mined to  take  the  first  express 
back  to  Paris. 

This  time  the  circumstances  of 
the  vision  had  been  so  natural 
that  it  did  not  strike  me  that  there 
was  anything  unreal  about  the 
face,  or  about  the  woman  to  whom 
it  belonged.  I  did  not  try  to  ex- 
plain to  myself  how  the  face,  and 
the  woman,  could  be  travelling  by 
a  fast  train  from  Berlin  to  Paris 


104    .t6g  tbe  Tldaters  of  paradise 

on  a  winter's  afternoon,  when 
both  were  in  my  mind  indelibly 
associated  with  the  moonlight  and 
the  fountains  in  my  own  English 
home.  I  certainly  would  not  have 
admitted  that  I  had  been  mistaken 
in  the  dusk,  attributing  to  what 
I  had  seen  a  resemblance  to  my 
former  vision  which  did  not  really 
exist.  There  was  not  the  slightest 
doubt  in  my  mind,  and  I  was 
positively  sure  that  I  had  again 
seen  the  face  I  loved.  I  did  not 
hesitate,  and  in  a  few  hours  I  was 
on  my  way  back  to  Paris.  I 
could  not  help  reflecting  on  my 
ill  luck.  Wandering  as  I  had  been 
for  many  months,  it  might  as 
easily  have  chanced  that  I  should 
be  travelling  in  the  same  train 
with  that  woman,  instead  of  going 
the  other  way.  But  my  luck  was 
destined  to  turn  for  a  time. 


3Bg  tbe  Waters  of  paradise    105 

I  searched  Paris  for  several  days. 
I  dined  at  the  principal  hotels ;  I 
went  to  the  theatres  ;  I  rode  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  in  the  morning, 
and  picked  up  an  acquaintance, 
whom  I  forced  to  drive  with  me  in 
the  afternoon.  I  went  to  mass  at 
the  Madeleine,  and  I  attended  the 
services  at  the  English  Church.  I 
hung  about  the  Louvre  and  Notre 
Dame.  I  went  to  Versailles.  I 
spent  hours  in  parading  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Meurice's  corner,  where  foreign- 
ers pass  and  repass  from  morning 
till  night.  At  last  I  received  an 
invitation  to  a  reception  at  the 
English  Embassy.  I  went,  and  I 
found  what  I  had  sought  so  long. 

There  she  was,  sitting  by  an  old 
lady  in  grey  satin  and  diamonds, 
who  had  a  wrinkled  but  kindly 
face  and  keen  grey  eyes  that 


io6    38s  tbe  Waters  of  paraOise 

seemed  to  take  in  everything  they 
saw,  with  very  little  inclination  to 
give  much  in  return.  But  I  did 
not  notice  the  chaperon.  I  saw 
only  the  face  that  had  haunted  me 
for  months,  and  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment  I  walked  quickly 
towards  the  pair,  forgetting  such 
a  trifle  as  the  necessity  for  an  in- 
troduction. 

She  was  far  more  beautiful  than 
I  had  thought,  but  I  never  doubted 
that  it  was  she  herself  and  no 
other.  Vision  or  no  vision  before, 
this  was  the  reality,  and  I  knew  it. 
Twice  her  hair  had  been  covered, 
now  at  last  I  saw  it,  and  the  added 
beauty  of  its  magnificence  glorified 
the  whole  woman.  It  was  rich 
hair,  fine  and  abundant,  golden, 
with  deep  ruddy  tints  in  it  like 
red  bronze  spun  fine.  There  was 
no  ornament  in  it,  not  a  rose,  not 


JBg  tbc  Maters  of  ipara&ise    107 

a  thread  of  gold,  and  I  felt  that  it 
needed  nothing  to  enhance  its 
splendour;  nothing  but  her  pale 
face,  her  dark  strange  eyes,  and 
her  heavy  eyebrows.  I  could  see 
that  she  was  slender  too,  but 
strong  withal,  as  she  sat  there 
quietly  gazing  at  the  moving  scene 
in  the  midst  of  the  brilliant  lights 
and  the  hum  of  perpetual  conver- 
sation. 

I  recollected  the  detail  of  intro- 
duction in  time,  and  turned  aside 
to  look  for  my  host.  I  found  him 
at  last.  I  begged  him  to  present 
me  to  the  two  ladies,  pointing 
them  out  to  him  at  the  same 
time. 

"Yes  —  uh  —  by  all  means  — 
uh — "  replied  his  Excellency  with 
a  pleasant  smile.  He  evidently 
had  no  idea  of  my  name,  which 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at. 


io8    JB$  tbe  "CQaters  of  para&iae 

"  I  am  Lord  Cairngorm,"  I  ob- 
served. 

"  Oh — by  all  means,"  answered 
the  Ambassador  with  the  same 
hospitable  smile.  "  Yes — uh — the 
fact  is,  I  must  try  and  find  out 
who  they  are  ;  such  lots  of  people, 
you  know." 

"  Oh,  if  you  will  present  me,  I 
will  try  and  find  out  for  you,"  said 
I,  laughing. 

"Ah,  yes — so  kind  of  you  — 
come  along,"  said  my  host.  We 
threaded  the  crowd,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  we  stood  before  the  two 
ladies. 

"  'Lowmintrduce  L'd  Cairn- 
gorm," he  said ;  then,  adding 
quickly  to  me,  "  Come  and  dine 
to-morrow,  won't  you  ?  "  he  glided 
away  with  his  pleasant  smile  and 
disappeared  in  the  crowd. 

I  sat  down  beside  the  beautiful 


JS£  tbe  Maters  of  ipara&tse    109 

girl,  conscious  that  the  eyes  of  the 
duenna  were  upon  me. 

"  I  think  we  have  been  very  near 
meeting  before,"  I  remarked,  by 
way  of  opening  the  conversation. 

My  companion  turned  her  eyes 
full  upon  me  with  an  air  of  inquiry. 
She  evidently  did  not  recall  my 
face,  if  she  had  ever  seen  me. 

"  Really — I  cannot  remember," 
she  observed,  in  a  low  and  musical 
voice.  "  When  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  came 
down  from  Berlin  by  the  express, 
ten  days  ago.  I  was  going  the 
other  way,  and  our  carriages 
stopped  opposite  each  other.  I 
saw  you  at  the  window." 

"Yes — we  came  that  way,  but 
I  do  not  remember —  She 

hesitated. 

"  Secondly,"  I  continued,  "  I  was 
sitting  alone  in  my  garden  last 


i  io    3B%  tbc  li&aters  of  paradise 

summer — near  the  end  of  July — 
do  you  remember?  You  must 
have  wandered  in  there  through 
the  park ;  you  came  up  to  the 
house  and  looked  at  me — 

"  Was  that  you  ?  "  she  asked,  in 
evident  surprise.  Then  she  broke 
into  a  laugh.  "  I  told  everybody 
I  had  seen  a  ghost  ;  there  had 
never  been  any  Cairngorms  in  the 
place  since  the  memory  of  man. 
We  left  the  next  day,  and  never 
heard  that  you  had  come  there  ; 
indeed,  I  did  not  know  the  castle 
belonged  to  you." 

"  Where  were  you  staying  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Where  ?  Why,  with  my  aunt, 
where  I  always  stay.  She  is  your 
neighbour,  since  it  is  you." 

"  I — beg  your  pardon — but  then 
— is  your  aunt  Lady  Bluebell  ?  I 
did  not  quite  catch — 


JBg  tbe  Maters  of  paradise    m 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  She  is  amaz- 
ingly deaf.  Yes.  She  is  the  relict 
of  my  beloved  uncle,  the  sixteenth 
or  seventeenth  Baron  Bluebell — I 
forget  exactly  how  many  of  them 
there  have  been.  And  I — do  you 
know  who  I  am  ?  "  She  laughed, 
well  knowing  that  I  did  not. 

"  No,"  I  answered  frankly.  "I 
have  not  the  least  idea.  I  asked 
to  be  introduced  because  I  recog- 
nised you.  Perhaps — perhaps  you 
are  a  Miss  Bluebell  ?  " 

"  Considering  that  you  are  a 
neighbour,  I  will  tell  you  who  I 
am,"  she  answered.  "  No  ;  I  am 
of  the  tribe  of  Bluebells,  but  my 
name  is  Lammas,  and  I  have  been 
given  to  understand  that  I  was 
christened  Margaret.  Being  a 
floral  family,  they  call  me  Daisy. 
A  dreadful  American  man  once 
told  me  that  my  aunt  was  a  Blue- 


H2    JBg  tbe  "Maters  of  paradise 

bell  and  that  I  was  a  Harebell — 
with  two  1's  and  an  e — -because  my 
hair  is  so  thick.  I  warn  you,  so 
that  you  may  avoid  making  such 
a  bad  pun." 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  man  who 
makes  puns  ?  "  I  asked,  being  very 
conscious  of  my  melancholy  face 
and  sad  looks. 

Miss  Lammas  eyed  me  critic- 
ally. 

"  No  ;  you  have  a  mournful 
temperament.  I  think  I  can  trust 
you,"  she  answered.  ''  Do  you 
think  you  could  communicate  to 
my  aunt  the  fact  that  you  are  a 
Cairngorm  and  a  neighbour  ?  I 
am  sure  she  would  like  to  know." 

I  leaned  towards  the  old  lady, 
inflating  my  lungs  fora  yell.  But 
Miss  Lammas  stopped  me. 

"  That  is  not  of  the  slightest 
use,"  she  remarked.  "  You  can 


JBg  tbe  Waters  of  paraDtse    113 

write  it  on  a  bit  of  paper.  She  is 
utterly  deaf.' 

"  I  have  a  pencil,"  I  answered  ; 
"  but  I  have  no  paper.  Would  my 
cuff  do,  do  you  think?  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  replied  Miss  Lam- 
mas, with  alacrity ;  "  men  often 
do  that." 

I  wrote  on  my  cuff :  "  Miss 
Lammas  wishes  me  to  explain  that 
I  am  your  neighbour,  Cairngorm." 
Then  I  held  out  my  arm  before 
the  old  lady's  nose.  She  seemed 
perfectly  accustomed  to  the  pro- 
ceeding, put  up  her  glasses,  read 
the  words,  smiled,  nodded,  and 
addressed  me  in  the  unearthly 
voice  peculiar  to  people  who  hear 
nothing. 

"  I  knew  your  grandfather  very 
well,"  she  said.  Then  she  smiled 
and  nodded  to  me  again,  and  to 
her  niece,  and  relapsed  into  silence. 


H4   JBt>  tbe  ^Oarers  of  paraMse 

"  It  is  all  right,"  remarked  Miss 
Lammas.  "  Aunt  Bluebell  knows 
she  is  deaf,  and  does  not  say  much, 
like  the  parrot.  You  see,  she 
knew  your  grandfather.  How 
odd,  that  we  should  be  neigh- 
bours !  Why  have  we  never  met 
before  ? " 

"If  you  had  told  me  you  knew 
my  grandfather  when  you  appeared 
in  the  garden,  I  should  not  have 
been  in  the  least  surprised,"  I  an- 
swered rather  irrelevantly.  "  I 
really  thought  you  were  the  ghost 
of  the  old  fountain.  How  in  the 
world  did  you  come  there  at  that 
hour  ?  " 

"  We  were  a  large  party  and  we 
went  out  for  a  walk.  Then  we 
thought  we  should  like  to  see  what 
your  park  was  like  in  the  moon- 
light, and  so  we  trespassed.  I  got 
separated  from  the  rest,  and  came 


3Bg  tbe  Maters  of  paraDtse    us 

upon  you  by  accident,  just  as  I 
was  admiring  the  extremely 
ghostly  look  of  your  house,  and 
wondering  whether  anybody 
would  ever  come  and  live  there 
again.  It  looks  like  the  castle 
of  Macbeth,  or  a  scene  from  the 
opera.  Do  you  know  anybody 
here  ?  " 

"  Hardly  a  soul !     Do  you  ?  " 

"  No.  Aunt  Bluebell  said  it  was 
our  duty  to  come.  It  is  easy  for 
her  to  go  out ;  she  does  not  bear 
the  burden  of  the  conversation." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  it  a  bur- 
den," said  I.  "  Shall  I  go  away  ?  " 

Miss  Lammas  looked  at  me  with 
a  sudden  gravity  in  her  beautiful 
eyes,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  hesi- 
tation about  the  lines  of  her  full, 
soft  mouth. 

"  No,"  she  said  at  last,  quite 
simply,  "  don't  go  away.  We  may 


ii6   asp  tbe  Idaters  of  paratuse 

like  each  other,  if  you  stay  a  little 
longer — and  we  ought  to,  because 
we  are  neighbours  in  the  country." 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  have 
thought  Miss  Lammas  a  very  odd 
girl.  There  is,  indeed,  a  sort  of 
freemasonry  between  people  who 
discover  that  they  live  near  each 
other,  and  that  they  ought  to  have 
known  each  other  before.  But 
there  was  a  sort  of  unexpected 
frankness  and  simplicity  in  the 
girl's  amusing  manner  which  would 
have  struck  any  one  else  as  being 
singular,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  To 
me,  however,  it  all  seemed  natural 
enough.  I  had  dreamed  of  her 
face  too  long  not  to  be  utterly 
happy  when  I  met  her  at  last,  and 
could  talk  to  her  as  much  as  I 
pleased.  To  me,  the  man  of  ill 
luck  in  everything,  the  whole 
meeting  seemed  too  good  to  be 


JBg  tbe  IClaters  of  paraOise    117 

true.  I  felt  again  that  strange  sen- 
sation of  lightness  which  I  had  ex- 
perienced after  I  had  seen  her  face 
in  the  garden.  The  great  rooms 
seemed  brighter,  life  seemed  worth 
living ;  my  sluggish,  melancholy 
blood  ran  faster,  and  filled  me  with 
a  new  sense  of  strength.  I  said  to 
myself  that  without  this  woman  I 
was  but  an  imperfect  being,  but 
that  with  her  I  could  accomplish 
everything  to  which  I  should  set 
my  hand.  Like  the  great  Doctor, 
when  he  thought  he  had  cheated 
Mephistopheles  at  last,  I  could 
have  cried  aloud  to  the  fleeting 
moment,  Verweile  dock,  du  bist  so 
schon  ! 

"Are  you  always  gay?"  I 
asked,  suddenly.  "  How  happy 
you  must  be  !  " 

"  The  days  would  sometimes 
seem  very  long  if  I  were  gloomy," 


"8   ;BE  tbe  Waters  of 

she  answered,  thoughtfully.  "  Yes, 
I  think  I  find  life  very  pleasant, 
and  I  tell  it  so." 

"  How  can  you  '  tell  life  '  any- 
thing?" I  inquired.  "  If  I  could 
catch  my  life  and  talk  to  it,  I 
would  abuse  it  prodigiously,  I 
assure  you." 

"  I  daresay.  You  have  a  melan- 
choly temper.  You  ought  to  live 
out  of  doors,  dig  potatoes,  make 
hay,  shoot,  hunt,  tumble  into 
ditches,  and  come  home  muddy 
and  hungry  for  dinner.  It  would 
be  much  better  for  you  than 
moping  in  your  rook  tower,  and 
hating  everything." 

"It  is  rather  lonely  down  there," 
I  murmured,  apologetically,  feel- 
ing that  Miss  Lammas  was  quite 
right. 

"  Then  marry,  and  quarrel  with 


JBe  tbc  Idaters  of  paraDtse    119 

your  wife,"  she  laughed.  "  Any- 
thing is  better  than  being  alone." 

"  I  am  a  very  peaceable  person. 
I  never  quarrel  with  anybody. 
You  can  try  it.  You  will  find  it 
quite  impossible." 

"Will  you  let  me  try?"  she 
asked,  still  smiling. 

"  By  all  means — especially  if  it 
is  to  be  only  a  preliminary  canter," 
I  answered,  rashly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  in- 
quired, turning  quickly  upon  me. 

"  Oh — nothing.  You  might  try 
my  paces  with  a  view  to  quarrel- 
ling in  the  future.  I  cannot 
imagine  how  you  are  going  to  do 
it.  You  will  have  to  resort  to 
immediate  and  direct  abuse." 

"  No.  I  will  only  say  that  if 
you  do  not  like  your  life,  it  is 
your  own  fault.  How  can  a  man 


120    ;fl5g  tbc  TlUaters  of  paraDtse 


of  your  age  talk  of  being  melan- 
choly, or  of  the  hollowness  of 
existence  ?  Are  you  consumptive  ? 
Are  you  subject  to  hereditary  in- 
sanity? Are  you  deaf,  like  Aunt 
Bluebell  ?  Are  you  poor,  like — 
lots  of  people?  Have  you  been 
crossed  in  love?  Have  you  lost 
the  world  for  a  woman,  or  any 
particular  woman  for  the  sake  of 
the  world  ?  Are  you  feeble-minded, 
a  cripple,  an  outcast  ?  Are  you— 
repulsively  ugly?"  She  laughed 
again.  "  Is  there  any  reason  in 
the  world  why  you  should  not 
enjoy  all  you  have  got  in  life?" 

"  No.  There  is  no  reason  what- 
ever, except  that  I  am  dreadfully  un- 
lucky, especially  in  small  things." 

"  Then  try  big  things,  just  for  a 
change,"  suggested  Miss  Lam- 
mas. "  Try  and  get  married,  for 
instance,  and  see  how  it  turns  out." 


J8g  tbe  TKHatere  of  paradise    121 

"  If  it  turned  out  badly  it  would 
be  rather  serious." 

"  Not  half  so  serious  as  it  is  to 
abuse  everything  unreasonably. 
If  abuse  is  your  particular  talent, 
abuse  something  that  ought  to  be 
abused.  Abuse  the  Conservatives 
— or  the  Liberals — it  does  not 
matter  which,  since  they  are  al- 
ways abusing  each  other.  Make 
yourself  felt  by  other  people. 
You  will  like  it,  if  they  don't.  It 
will  make  a  man  of  you.  Fill 
your  mouth  with  pebbles,  and 
howl  at  the  sea,  if  you  cannot  do 
anything  else.  It  did  Demosthenes 
no  end  of  good  you  know.  You 
will  have  the  satisfaction  of  imi- 
tating a  great  man." 

"  Really,  Miss  Lammas,  I  think 
the  list  of  innocent  exercises  you 
propose — 

"  Very  well — if  you   don't  care 


tbc  Waters  of  paraDise 


for  that  sort  of  thing,  care  for 
some  other  sort  of  thing.  Care 
for  something,  or  hate  something. 
Don't  be  idle.  Life  is  short,  and 
though  art  may  be  long,  plenty  of 
noise  answers  nearly  as  well." 

"  I  do  care  for  something — I 
mean,  somebody,"  I  said. 

"  A  woman  ?  Then  marry  her. 
Don't  hesitate." 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  she 
would  marry  me,"  I  replied.  "  I 
have  never  asked  her." 

"Then  ask  her  at  once,"  an- 
swered Miss  Lammas.  "  I  shall 
die  happy  if  I  feel  I  have  per- 
suaded a  melancholy  fellow-crea- 
ture to  rouse  himself  to  action. 
Ask  her,  by  all  means,  and  see 
what  she  says.  If  she  does  not 
accept  you  at  once,  she  may  take 
you  the  next  time.  Meanwhile, 
you  will  have  entered  for  the  race. 


JBg  tbe  Waters  of  paraDtse    123 

If  you  lose,  there  are  the  'All- 
aged  Trial  Stakes,'  and  the  '  Con- 
solation Race.' " 

"  And  plenty  of  selling  races 
into  the  bargain.  Shall  I  take  you 
at  your  word,  Miss  Lammas?" 

"  I  hope  you  will,"  she  answered. 

"Since  you  yourself  advise  me, 
I  will.  Miss  Lammas,  will  you 
do  me  the  honour  to  marry  me  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  the 
blood  rushed  to  my  head  and  my 
sight  swam.  I  cannot  tell  why  I 
said  it.  It  would  be  useless  to  try 
to  explain  the  extraordinary  fasci- 
nation the  girl  exercised  over  me, 
nor  the  still  more  extraordinary 
feeling  of  intimacy  with  her  which 
had  grown  in  me  during  that  half- 
hour.  Lonely,  sad,  unlucky  as  I 
had  been  all  my  life,  I  was  cer- 
tainly not  timid,  nor  even  shy. 
But  to  propose  to  marry  a  woman 


124   JBg  tbe  Waters  of  paradise 


after  half  an  hour's  acquaintance 
was  a  piece  of  madness  of  which 
I  never  believed  myself  capable, 
and  of  which  I  should  never  be 
capable  again,  could  I  be  placed 
in  the  same  situation.  It  was  as 
though  my  whole  being  had  been 
changed  in  a  moment  by  magic — 
by  the  white  magic  of  her  nature 
brought  into  contact  with  mine. 
The  blood  sank  back  to  my  heart, 
and  a  moment  later  I  found  my- 
self staring  at  her  with  anxious 
eyes.  To  my  amazement  she  was 
as  calm  as  ever,  but  her  beautiful 
mouth  smiled,  and  there  was  a 
mischievous  light  in  her  dark- 
brown  eyes. 

"  Fairly  caught,"  she  answered. 
"  For  an  individual  who  pretends 
to  be  listless  and  sad  you  are  not 
lacking  in  humour.  I  had  really 
not  the  least  idea  what  vou  were 


3Bg  tbe  Waters  of  ipara&iee    125 

going  to  say.  Would  n't  it  be 
singularly  awkward  for  you  if  I 
had  said  '  Yes '  ?  I  never  saw 
anybody  begin  to  practise  so 
sharply  what  was  preached  to  him 
— with  so  very  little  loss  of  time  !  " 

"  You  probably  never  met  a  man 
who  had  dreamed  of  you  for  seven 
months  before  being  introduced." 

"  No,  I  never  did,"  she  an- 
swered, gaily.  "  It  smacks  of  the 
romantic.  Perhaps  you  are  a 
romantic  character,  after  all.  I 
should  think  you  were  if  I  be- 
lieved you.  Very  well ;  you  have 
taken  my  advice,  entered  for  a 
Stranger's  Race  and  lost  it.  Try 
the  All-aged  Trial  Stakes.  You 
have  another  cuff,  and  a  pencil. 
Propose  to  Aunt  Bluebell ;  she 
would  dance  with  astonishment, 
and  she  might  recover  her  hear- 
ing." 


III. 

THAT  was  ho\v  I  first  asked 
Margaret  Lammas  to  be  my 
wife,  and  I  will  agree  with  any  one 
who  says  I  behaved  very  foolishly. 
But  I  have  not  repented  of  it,  and 
I  never  shall.  I  have  long  ago 
understood  that  I  was  out  of  my 
mind  that  evening,  but  I  think 
my  temporary  insanity  on  that 
occasion  has  had  the  effect  of 
making  me  a  saner  man  ever 
since.  Her  manner  turned  my 
head,  for  it  was  so  different  from 
what  I  had  expected.  To  hear 
this  lovely  creature,  who,  in  my 
imagination,  was  a  heroine  of  ro- 

o 

mance,  if  not  of  tragedy,  talking 
126 


JBg  tbc  TKHaters  of  ff>ara&f0e    127 

familiarly  and  laughing  readily  was 
more  than  my  equanimity  could 
bear,  and  I  lost  my  head  as  well 
as  my  heart.  But  when  I  went 
back  to  England  in  the  spring,  I 
went  to  make  certain  arrange- 
ments at  the  Castle — certain 
changes  and  improvements  which 
would  be. absolutely  necessary.  I 
had  won  the  race  for  which  I  had 
entered  myself  so  rashly,  and  we 
were  to  be  married  in  June. 

Whether  the  change  was  due  to 
the  orders  I  had  left  with  the 
gardener  and  the  rest  of  the  ser- 
vants, or  to  my  own  state  of 
mind,  I  cannot  tell.  At  all  events, 
the  old  place  did  not  look  the 
same  to  me  when  I  opened  my 
window  on  the  morning  after  my 
arrival.  There  were  the  grey 
walls  below  me,  and  the  grey  tur- 
rets flanking  the  huge  building  ; 


i28    ;gjg  tbe  TJQaters  of  paradise 

there  were  the  fountains,  the 
marble  causeways,  the  smooth 
basins,  the  tall  box  hedges,  the 
water-lilies  and  the  swans,  just  as 
of  old.  But  there  was  something 
else  there,  too — something  in  the 
air,  in  the  water,  and  in  the  green- 
ness that  I  did  not  recognise — a 
light  over  everything  by  which 
everything  was  transfigured.  The 
clock  in  the  tower  struck  seven, 
and  the  strokes  of  the  ancient 
bell  sounded  like  a  wedding 
chime.  The  air  sang  with  the 
thrilling  treble  of  the  song- 
birds, with  the  silvery  music  of 
the  plashing  water  and  the  softer 
harmony  of  the  leaves  stirred  by 
the  fresh  morning  wind.  There 
was  a  smell  of  new-mown  hay 
from  the  distant  meadows,  and  of 
blooming  roses  from  the  beds 
below,  wafted  up  together  to  my 


JBE  tbe  Waters  of  paraDise    129 

window.  I  stood  in  the  pure 
sunshine  and  drank  the  air  and  all 
the  sounds  and  the  odours  that 
were  in  it  ;  and  I  looked  down  at 
my  garden  and  said  :  "  It  is  Para- 
dise, after  all."  I  think  the  men  of 
old  were  right  when  they  called 
heaven  a  garden,  and  Eden,  a 
garden  inhabited  by  one  man  and 
one  woman,  the  Earthly  Paradise. 
I  turned  away,  wondering  what 
had  become  of  the  gloomy  mem- 
ories I  had  always  associated  with 
my  home.  I  tried  to  recall  the 
impression  of  my  nurse's  horrible 
prophecy  before  the  death  of  my 
parents — an  impression  which 
hitherto  had  been  vivid  enough. 
I  tried  to  remember  my  old  self, 
my  dejection,  my  listlessness,  my 
bad  luck,  and  my  petty  disap- 
pointments. I  endeavoured  to 
force  myself  to  think  as  I  used  to 


i3«   JBg  tbc  Idaters  of  para&ise 

think,  if  only  to  satisfy  myself 
that  I  had  not  lost  my  individual- 
ity. But  I  succeeded  in  none  of 
these  efforts.  I  was  a  different 
man,  a  changed  being,  incapable 
of  sorrow,  of  ill  luck,  or  of  sad- 
ness. My  life  had  been  a  dream, 
not  evil,  but  infinitely  gloomy  and 
hopeless.  It  was  now  a  reality, 
full  of  hope,  gladness,  and  all  man- 
ner of  good.  My  home  had  been 
like  a  tomb ;  to-day  it  was  para- 
dise. My  heart  had  been  as 
though  it  had  not  existed  ;  to-day 
it  beat  with  strength  and  youth, 
and  the  certainty  of  realised  happi- 
ness. I  revelled  in  the  beauty  of 
the  world,  and  called  loveliness 
out  of  the  future  to  enjoy  it  before 
time  should  bring  it  to  me,  as  a 
traveller  in  the  plains  looks  up 
to  the  mountains,  and  already 


J8g  tbe  IDlaters  of  paradise    131 

tastes    the    cool    air   through   the 
dust  of  the  road. 

Here,  I  thought,  we  will  live 
and  live  for  years.  There  we  will 
sit  by  the  fountain  towards  even- 
ing and  in  the  deep  moonlight. 
Down  those  paths  we  will  wander 
together.  On  those  benches  we 
will  rest  and  talk.  Among  those 
eastern  hills  we  will  ride  through 
the  soft  twilight,  and  in  the  old 
house  we  will  tell  tales  on  winter 
nights,  when  the  logs  burn  high, 
and  the  holly  berries  are  red,  and 
the  old  clock  tolls  out  the  dying 
year.  On  these  old  steps,  in  these 
dark  passages  and  stately  rooms, 
there  will  one  day  be  the  sound  of 
little  pattering  feet,  and  laughing 
child-voices  will  ring  up  to  the 
vaults  of  the  ancient  hall.  Those 
tiny  footsteps  shall  not  be  slow 


132    JBg  ibe  Maters  of  paraDise 

and  sad  as  mine  were,  nor  shall 
the  childish  words  be  spoken  in  an 
awed  whisper.  No  gloomy  Welsh- 
woman shall  people  the  dusky 
corners  with  weird  horrors,  nor 
utter  horrid  prophecies  of  death 
and  ghastly  things.  All  shall  be 
young,  and  fresh,  and  joyful,  and 
happy,  and  we  will  turn  the  old 
luck  again,  and  forget  that  there 
was  ever  any  sadness. 

So  I  thought,  as  I  looked  out 
of  my  window  that  morning  and 
for  many  mornings  after  that,  and 
every  day  it  all  seemed  more  real 
than  ever  before,  and  much  nearer. 
But  the  old  nurse  looked  at  me 
askance,  and  muttered  odd  sayings 
about  the  Woman  of  the  Water. 
I  cared  little  what  she  said,  for  I 
was  far  too  happy. 

At  last  the  time  came  near  for 
the  wedding.  Lady  Bluebell  and 


tbe  TIClatcrs  of  para&fse    133 


all  the  tribe  of  Bluebells,  as  Mar- 
garet called  them,  were  at  Blue- 
bell Grange,  for  we  had  determined 
to  be  married  in  the  country,  and 
to  come  straight  to  the  Castle 
afterwards.  We  cared  little  for 
travelling,  and  not  at  all  for  a 
crowded  ceremony  at  St.  George's 
in  Hanover  Square,  with  all  the 
tiresome  formalities  afterwards.  I 
used  to  ride  over  to  the  Grange 
every  day,  and  very  often  Margaret 
would  come  with  her  aunt  and 
some  of  her  cousins  to  the  Castle. 
I  was  suspicious  of  my  own  taste, 
and  was  only  too  glad  to  let  her 
have  her  way  about  the  altera- 
tions and  improvements  in  our 
home. 

We  were  to  be  married  on  the 
thirtieth  of  July,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  twenty-eighth  Margaret 
drove  over  with  some  of  the  Blue- 


134    $*>  tbe  "Cdaters  of 


bell  party.  In  the  long  summer 
twilight  we  all  went  out  into  the 
garden.  Naturally  enough,  Mar- 
garet and  I  were  left  to  ourselves, 
and  we  wandered  down  by  the 
marble  basins. 

"  It  is  an  odd  coincidence."  I 
said  ;  "  it  was  on  this  very  night 
last  year  that  I  first  saw  you." 

"  Considering  that  it  is  the 
month  of  July,"  answered  Mar- 
garet with  a  laugh,  "  and  that  we 
have  been  here  almost  every  day, 
I  don't  think  the  coincidence  is  so 
extraordinary,  after  all." 

"  No,  dear,"  said  I,  "  I  suppose 
not.  I  don't  know  why  it  struck 
me.  We  shall  very  likely  be  here 
a  year  from  to-day,  and  a  year 
from  that.  The  odd  thing,  when 
I  think  of  it,  is  that  you  should 
be  here  at  all.  But  my  luck  has 
turned.  I  ought  not  to  think  any- 


tbe  TIClaters  of  para&ise    135 


thing  odd  that  happens  now  that 
I  have  you.  It  is  all  sure  to  be 
good." 

"  A  slight  change  in  your  ideas 
since  that  remarkable  performance 
of  yours  in  Paris,"  said  Margaret. 
"  Do  you  know,  I  thought  you 
were  the  most  extraordinary  man 
I  had  ever  met." 

"  I  thought  you  were  the  most 
charming  woman  I  had  ever  seen. 
I  naturally  did  not  want  to  lose 
any  time  in  frivolities.  I  took  you 
at  your  word,  I  followed  your  ad- 
vice, I  asked  you  to  marry  me, 
and  this  is  the  delightful  result  — 
what  's  the  matter  ?  " 

Margaret  had  started  suddenly, 
and  her  hand  tightened  on  my 
arm.  An  old  woman  was  coming 
up  the  path,  and  was  close  to  us 
before  we  saw  her,  for  the  moon 
had  risen,  and  was  shining  full  in 


136   JBg  tbe  TIQaters  of  para&fse 

our  faces.  The  woman  turned 
put  to  be  my  old  nurse. 

"  It's  only  old  Judith,  dear — 
don't  be  frightened,"  I  said.  Then 
I  spoke  to  the  Welshwoman : 
"What  are  you  about,  Judith? 
Have  you  been  feeding  the 
Woman  of  the  \Vater  ?  " 

"  Ay — when  the  clock  strikes, 
Willie — my  lord,  I  mean,"  mut- 
tered the  old  creature,  drawing 
aside  to  let  us  pass,  and  fixing  her 
strange  eyes  on  Margaret's  face. 

"  \Vhat  does  she  mean  ?  "  asked 
Margaret,  when  we  had  gone  by. 

"  Nothing,  darling.  The  old 
thing  is  mildly  crazy,  but  she  is  a 
good  soul." 

We  went  on  in  silence  for  a 
few  moments,  and  came  to  the 
rustic  bridge  just  above  the  artifi- 
cial grotto  through  which  the 
water  ran  out  into  the  park,  dark 


tbe  Waters  of  para&iee    137 


and  swift  in  its  narrow  channel. 
We  stopped,  and  leaned  on  the 
wooden  rail.  The  moon  was  now 
behind  us,  and  shone  full  upon 
the  long  vista  of  basins  and  on  the 
huge  walls  and  towers  of  the 
Castle  above. 

"  How  proud  you  ought  to  be 
of  such  a  grand  old  place  !  "  said 
Margaret,  softly. 

"  It  is  yours  now,  darling,"  I 
answered.  "  You  have  as  good  a 
right  to  love  it  as  I — but  I  only 
love  it  because  you  are  to  live  in 
it,  dear." 

Her  hand  stole  out  and  lay  on 
mine,  and  we  were  both  silent. 
Just  then  the  clock  began  to  strike 
far  off  in  the  tower.  I  counted 
— eight  —  nine  —  ten  —  eleven  —  I 
looked  at  my  watch  —  twelve — 
thirteen  —  I  laughed.  The  bell 
went  on  striking. 


138    JBg  tbc  Maters  of  para&ise 


"  The  old  clock  has  gone  crazy, 
like  Judith,"  I  exclaimed.  Still  it 
went  on,  note  after  note  ringing 
out  monotonously  through  the 
still  air.  We  leaned  over  the  rail,  in- 
stinctively looking  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  came.  On  and 
on  it  went.  I  counted  nearly  a 
hundred,  out  of  sheer  curiosity, 
for  I  understood  that  something 
had  broken,  and  that  the  thing 
was  running  itself  down. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  crack  as  of 
breaking  wood,  a  cry  and  a  heavy 
splash,  and  I  was  alone,  clinging 
to  the  broken  end  of  the  rail  of 
the  rustic  bridge. 

I  do  not  think  I  hesitated  while 
my  pulse  beat  twice.  I  sprang 
clear  of  the  bridge  into  the  black 
rushing  water,  dived  to  the  bot- 
tom, came  up  again  with  empty 
hands,  turned  and  swam  down- 


JBe  tbe  Ttdaters  of  ftara&ise    139 

wards  through  the  grotto  in  the 
thick  darkness,  plunging  and  div- 
ing at  every  stroke,  striking  my 
head  and  hands  against  jagged 
stones  and  sharp  corners,  clutch- 
ing at  last  something  in  my  fin- 
gers, and  dragging  it  up  with  all 
my  might.  I  spoke,  I  cried  aloud, 
but  there  was  no  answer.  I  was 
alone  in  the  pitchy  blackness  with 
my  burden,  and  the  house  was 
five  hundred  yards  away.  Strug- 
gling still,  I  felt  the  ground  be- 
neath my  feet,  I  saw  a  ray  of 
moonlight — the  grotto  widened, 
and  the  deep  water  became  a 
broad  and  shallow  brook  as  I 
stumbled  over  the  stones  and  at 
last  laid  Margaret's  body  on  the 
bank  in  the  park  beyond. 

"  Ay,  Willie,  as  the  clock 
struck  !  "  said  the  voice  of  Judith, 
the  Welsh  nurse,  as  she  bent  down 


140   JBg  tbe  TKHaters  of 

and  looked  at  the  white  face. 
The  old  woman  must  have  turned 
back  and  followed  us,  seen  the 
accident,  and  slipped  out  by  the 
lower  gate  of  the  garden.  "  Ay," 
she  groaned,  "  you  have  fed  the 
Woman  of  the  Water  this  night, 
Willie,  while  the  clock  was  strik- 
ing." 

I  scarcely  heard  her  as  I  knelt  be- 
side the  lifeless  body  of  the  woman 
I  loved,  chafing  the  wet  white  tem- 
ples, and  gazing  wildly  into  the 
wide-staring  eyes.  I  remember 
only  the  first  returning  look  of 
consciousness,  the  first  heaving 
breath,  the  first  movement  of 
those  dear  hands  stretching  out 
towards  me. 

That  is  not  much  of  a  story, 
you  say.  It  is  the  story  of  my 
life.  That  is  all.  It  does  not 


JBB  tbc  Waters  of  ipara&tse    H* 

pretend  to  be  anything  else.  Old 
Judith  says  my  luck  turned  on 
that  summer's  night,  when  I  was 
struggling  in  the  water  to  save  all 
that  was  worth  living  for.  A 
month  later  there  was  a  stone 
bridge  above  the  grotto,  and  Mar- 
garet and  I  stood  on  it  and  looked 
up  at  the  moonlit  Castle,  as  we 
had  done  once  before,  and  as  we 
have  done  many  times  since.  For 
all  those  things  happened  ten 
years  ago  last  summer,  and  this  is 
the  tenth  Christmas  Eve  we  have 
spent  together  by  the  roaring  logs 
in  the  old  hall,  talking  of  old 
times  ;  and  every  year  there  are 
more  old  times  to  talk  of.  There 
are  curly-headed  boys,  too,  with 
red-gold  hair  and  dark-brown  eyes 
like  their  mother's,  and  a  little 
Margaret,  with  solemn  black  eyes 
like  mine.  Why  could  not  she 


142    JBg  tbe  Waters  of  para&tsc 

look  like  her  mother,  too,  as  well 
as  the  rest  of  them  ? 

The  world  is  very  bright  at  this 
glorious  Christmas  time,  and  per- 
haps there  is  little  use  in  calling 
up  the  sadness  of  long  ago,  unless 
it  be  to  make  the  jolly  firelight 
seem  more  cheerful,  the  good 
wife's  face  look  gladder,  and  to 
give  the  children's  laughter  a  mer- 
rier ring,  by  contrast  with  all  that 
is  gone.  Perhaps,  too,  some  sad- 
faced,  listless,  melancholy  youth, 
who  feels  that  the  world  is  very 
hollow,  and  that  life  is  like  a  per- 
petual funeral  service,  just  as  I 
used  to  feel  myself,  may  take 
courage  from  my  example,  and 
having  found  the  woman  of  his 
heart,  ask  her  to  marry  him  after 
half  an  hour's  acquaintance. 
But,  on  the  whole,  I  would  not 
advise  any  man  to  marry,  for  the 


simple  reason  that  no  man  will 
ever  find  a  wife  like  mine,  and  be- 
ing obliged  to  go  further,  he  will 
necessarily  fare  worse.  My  wife 
has  done  miracles,  but  I  will  not 
assert  that  any  other  woman  is 
able  to  follow  her  example. 

Margaret  always  said  that  the 
old  place  was  beautiful,  and  that 
I  ought  to  be  proud  of  it.  I  dare- 
say she  is  right.  She  has  even 
more  imagination  than  I.  But  I 
have  a  good  answer  and  a  plain 
one,  which  is  this — that  all  the 
beauty  of  the  Castle  comes  from 
her.  She  has  breathed  upon  it 
all,  as  the  children  blow  upon  the 
cold  glass  window-panes  in  win- 
ter ;  and  as  their  warm  breath 
crystallises  into  landscapes  from 
fairyland,  full  of  exquisites  shapes 
and  traceries  upon  the  blank  sur- 
face, so  her  spirit  has  transformed 


144    JBg  tbc  Maters  of  paraMse 

every  grey  stone  of  the  old  towers, 
ever  ancient  tree  and  hedge  in  the 
gardens,  every  thought  in  my  once 
melancholy  self.  All  that  was 
old  is  young,  and  all  that  was  sad 
is  glad,  and  I  am  the  gladdest  of 
all.  Whatever  heaven  may  be, 
there  is  no  earthly  paradise  with- 
out woman,  nor  is  there  anywhere 
a  place  so  desolate,  so  dreary,  so 
unutterably  miserable  that  a  wo- 
man cannot  make  it  seem  heaven 
to  the  man  she  loves  and  who 
loves  her. 

I  hear  certain  cynics  laugh, 
and  cry  that  all  that  has  been  said 
before.  Do  not  laugh,  my  good 
cynic.  You  are  too  small  a  man 
to  laugh  at  such  a  great  thing  as 
love.  Prayers  have  been  said  be- 
fore now  by  many,  and  perhaps 
you  say  yours,  too.  I  do  not 
think  they  lose  anything  by  being 


3BE  tbe  TUHaters  of  iparaDise    145 

repeated,  nor  you  by  repeating 
them.  You  say  that  the  world  is 
bitter,  and  full  of  the  Waters  of 
Bitterness.  Love,  and  so  live  that 
you  may  be  loved — the  world  will 
turn  sweet  for  you,  and  you  shall 
rest  like  me  by  the  Waters  of 
Paradise. 


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